EREWHON REVISITEDTWENTY YEARS LATERBoth by the Original Discoverer of the Country and by his Son

I forget when, but not very long after I had published "Erewhon" in 1872, it occurred to me to ask myself what course events in Erewhon wouldprobably take after Mr. Higgs, as I suppose I may now call him, had madehis escape in the balloon with Arowhena. Given a people in theconditions supposed to exist in Erewhon, and given the apparentlymiraculous ascent of a remarkable stranger into the heavens with anearthly bride--what would be the effect on the people generally?

There was no use in trying to solve this problem before, say, twentyyears should have given time for Erewhonian developments to assumesomething like permanent shape, and in 1892 I was too busy with books nowpublished to be able to attend to Erewhon. It was not till the earlywinter of 1900, i. E. As nearly as may be thirty years after the date ofHiggs's escape, that I found time to deal with the question above stated, and to answer it, according to my lights, in the book which I now laybefore the public. 

I have concluded, I believe rightly, that the events described in ChapterXXIV. Of "Erewhon" would give rise to such a cataclysmic change in theold Erewhonian opinions as would result in the development of a newreligion. Now the development of all new religions follows much the samegeneral course. In all cases the times are more or less out ofjoint--older faiths are losing their hold upon the masses. At suchtimes, let a personality appear, strong in itself, and made to seem stillstronger by association with some supposed transcendent miracle, and itwill be easy to raise a Lo here! that will attract many followers. Ifthere be a single great, and apparently well-authenticated, miracle, others will accrete round it; then, in all religions that have sooriginated, there will follow temples, priests, rites, sincere believers, and unscrupulous exploiters of public credulity. To chronicle the eventsthat followed Higgs's balloon ascent without shewing that they were muchas they have been under like conditions in other places, would be to holdthe mirror up to something very wide of nature. 

Analogy, however, between courses of events is one thing--historicparallelisms abound; analogy between the main actors in events is a verydifferent one, and one, moreover, of which few examples can be found. Thedevelopment of the new ideas in Erewhon is a familiar one, but there isno more likeness between Higgs and the founder of any other religion, than there is between Jesus Christ and Mahomet. He is a typical middle-class Englishman, deeply tainted with priggishness in his earlier years, but in great part freed from it by the sweet uses of adversity. 

If I may be allowed for a moment to speak about myself, I would say thatI have never ceased to profess myself a member of the more advanced wingof the English Broad Church. What those who belong to this wing believe, I believe. What they reject, I reject. No two people think absolutelyalike on any subject, but when I converse with advanced Broad Churchmen Ifind myself in substantial harmony with them. I believe--and should bevery sorry if I did not believe--that, mutatis mutandis, such men willfind the advice given on pp. 277-281 and 287-291 of this book much what, under the supposed circumstances, they would themselves give. 

Lastly, I should express my great obligations to Mr. R. A. Streatfeild ofthe British Museum, who, in the absence from England of my friend Mr. H. Festing Jones, has kindly supervised the corrections of my book as itpassed through the press. 

SAMUEL BUTLER. May 1, 1901. 

CHAPTER I: UPS AND DOWNS OF FORTUNE--MY FATHER STARTS FOR EREWHON

Before telling the story of my father's second visit to the remarkablecountry which he discovered now some thirty years since, I should perhapssay a few words about his career between the publication of his book in1872, and his death in the early summer of 1891. I shall thus touchbriefly on the causes that occasioned his failure to maintain that holdon the public which he had apparently secured at first. 

His book, as the reader may perhaps know, was published anonymously, andmy poor father used to ascribe the acclamation with which it wasreceived, to the fact that no one knew who it might not have been writtenby. _Omne ignotum pro magnifico_, and during its month of anonymity thebook was a frequent topic of appreciative comment in good literarycircles. Almost coincidently with the discovery that he was a merenobody, people began to feel that their admiration had been too hastilybestowed, and before long opinion turned all the more seriously againsthim for this very reason. The subscription, to which the Lord Mayor hadat first given his cordial support, was curtly announced as closed beforeit had been opened a week; it had met with so little success that I willnot specify the amount eventually handed over, not without protest, to myfather; small, however, as it was, he narrowly escaped being prosecutedfor trying to obtain money under false pretences. 

The Geographical Society, which had for a few days received him with openarms, was among the first to turn upon him--not, so far as I canascertain, on account of the mystery in which he had enshrouded the exactwhereabouts of Erewhon, nor yet by reason of its being persistentlyalleged that he was subject to frequent attacks of alcoholicpoisoning--but through his own want of tact, and a highly-strung nervousstate, which led him to attach too much importance to his owndiscoveries, and not enough to those of other people. This, at least, was my father's version of the matter, as I heard it from his own lips inthe later years of his life. 

"I was still very young, " he said to me, "and my mind was more or lessunhinged by the strangeness and peril of my adventures. " Be this as itmay, I fear there is no doubt that he was injudicious; and an ounce ofjudgement is worth a pound of discovery. 

Hence, in a surprisingly short time, he found himself dropped even bythose who had taken him up most warmly, and had done most to find himthat employment as a writer of religious tracts on which his livelihoodwas then dependent. The discredit, however, into which my father fell, had the effect of deterring any considerable number of people from tryingto rediscover Erewhon, and thus caused it to remain as unknown togeographers in general as though it had never been found. A fewshepherds and cadets at up-country stations had, indeed, tried to followin my father's footsteps, during the time when his book was still beingtaken seriously; but they had most of them returned, unable to face thedifficulties that had opposed them. Some few, however, had not returned, and though search was made for them, their bodies had not been found. When he reached Erewhon on his second visit, my father learned thatothers had attempted to visit the country more recently--probably quiteindependently of his own book; and before he had himself been in it manyhours he gathered what the fate of these poor fellows doubtless was. 

Another reason that made it more easy for Erewhon to remain unknown, wasthe fact that the more mountainous districts, though repeatedlyprospected for gold, had been pronounced non-auriferous, and as there wasno sheep or cattle country, save a few river-bed flats above the uppergorges of any of the rivers, and no game to tempt the sportsman, therewas nothing to induce people to penetrate into the fastnesses of thegreat snowy range. No more, therefore, being heard of Erewhon, myfather's book came to be regarded as a mere work of fiction, and I haveheard quite recently of its having been seen on a second-hand bookstall, marked "6d. Very readable. "

Though there was no truth in the stories about my father's being subjectto attacks of alcoholic poisoning, yet, during the first few years afterhis return to England, his occasional fits of ungovernable excitementgave some colour to the opinion that much of what he said he had seen anddone might be only subjectively true. I refer more particularly to hisinterview with Chowbok in the wool-shed, and his highly coloureddescription of the statues on the top of the pass leading into Erewhon. These were soon set down as forgeries of delirium, and it was maliciouslyurged, that though in his book he had only admitted having taken "two orthree bottles of brandy" with him, he had probably taken at least adozen; and that if on the night before he reached the statues he had"only four ounces of brandy" left, he must have been drinking heavily forthe preceding fortnight or three weeks. Those who read the followingpages will, I think, reject all idea that my father was in a state ofdelirium, not without surprise that any one should have ever entertainedit. 

It was Chowbok who, if he did not originate these calumnies, did much todisseminate and gain credence for them. He remained in England for someyears, and never tired of doing what he could to disparage my father. Thecunning creature had ingratiated himself with our leading religioussocieties, especially with the more evangelical among them. Whateverdoubt there might be about his sincerity, there was none about hiscolour, and a coloured convert in those days was more than Exeter Hallcould resist. Chowbok saw that there was no room for him and for myfather, and declared my poor father's story to be almost wholly false. Itwas true, he said, that he and my father had explored the head-waters ofthe river described in his book, but he denied that my father had gone onwithout him, and he named the river as one distant by many thousands ofmiles from the one it really was. He said that after about a fortnighthe had returned in company with my father, who by that time had becomeincapacitated for further travel. At this point he would shrug hisshoulders, look mysterious, and thus say "alcoholic poisoning" even moreeffectively than if he had uttered the words themselves. For a man'stongue lies often in his shoulders. 

Readers of my father's book will remember that Chowbok had given a verydifferent version when he had returned to his employer's station; butTime and Distance afford cover under which falsehood can often do truthto death securely. 

I never understood why my father did not bring my mother forward toconfirm his story. He may have done so while I was too young to knowanything about it. But when people have made up their minds, they areimpatient of further evidence; my mother, moreover, was of a veryretiring disposition. The Italians say:-

 "Chi lontano va ammogliare Sara ingannato, o vorra ingannare. "

"If a man goes far afield for a wife, he will be deceived--or meansdeceiving. " The proverb is as true for women as for men, and my motherwas never quite happy in her new surroundings. Wilfully deceived sheassuredly was not, but she could not accustom herself to English modes ofthought; indeed she never even nearly mastered our language; my fatheralways talked with her in Erewhonian, and so did I, for as a child shehad taught me to do so, and I was as fluent with her language as with myfather's. In this respect she often told me I could pass myself offanywhere in Erewhon as a native; I shared also her personal appearance, for though not wholly unlike my father, I had taken more closely after mymother. In mind, if I may venture to say so, I believe I was more likemy father. 

I may as well here inform the reader that I was born at the end ofSeptember 1871, and was christened John, after my grandfather. From whatI have said above he will readily believe that my earliest experienceswere somewhat squalid. Memories of childhood rush vividly upon me when Ipass through a low London alley, and catch the faint sickly smell thatpervades it--half paraffin, half black-currants, but wholly somethingvery different. I have a fancy that we lived in Blackmoor Street, offDrury Lane. My father, when first I knew of his doing anything at all, supported my mother and myself by drawing pictures with coloured chalksupon the pavement; I used sometimes to watch him, and marvel at the skillwith which he represented fogs, floods, and fires. These three "f's, " hewould say, were his three best friends, for they were easy to do andbrought in halfpence freely. The return of the dove to the ark was hisfavourite subject. Such a little ark, on such a hazy morning, and such alittle pigeon--the rest of the picture being cheap sky, and still cheapersea; nothing, I have often heard him say, was more popular than this withhis clients. He held it to be his masterpiece, but would add with somenaivete that he considered himself a public benefactor for carrying itout in such perishable fashion. "At any rate, " he would say, "no one canbequeath one of my many replicas to the nation. "

I never learned how much my father earned by his profession, but it musthave been something considerable, for we always had enough to eat anddrink; I imagine that he did better than many a struggling artist withmore ambitious aims. He was strictly temperate during all the time thatI knew anything about him, but he was not a teetotaler; I never saw anyof the fits of nervous excitement which in his earlier years had done somuch to wreck him. In the evenings, and on days when the state of thepavement did not permit him to work, he took great pains with myeducation, which he could very well do, for as a boy he had been in thesixth form of one of our foremost public schools. I found him a patient, kindly instructor, while to my mother he was a model husband. Whateverothers may have said about him, I can never think of him without veryaffectionate respect. 

Things went on quietly enough, as above indicated, till I was aboutfourteen, when by a freak of fortune my father became suddenly affluent. A brother of his father's had emigrated to Australia in 1851, and hadamassed great wealth. We knew of his existence, but there had been nointercourse between him and my father, and we did not even know that hewas rich and unmarried. He died intestate towards the end of 1885, andmy father was the only relative he had, except, of course, myself, forboth my father's sisters had died young, and without leaving children. 

The solicitor through whom the news reached us was, happily, a man of thehighest integrity, and also very sensible and kind. He was a Mr. AlfredEmery Cathie, of 15 Clifford's Inn, E. C. , and my father placed himselfunreservedly in his hands. I was at once sent to a first-rate school, and such pains had my father taken with me that I was placed in a higherform than might have been expected considering my age. The way in whichhe had taught me had prevented my feeling any dislike for study; Itherefore stuck fairly well to my books, while not neglecting the gameswhich are so important a part of healthy education. Everything went wellwith me, both as regards masters and school-fellows; nevertheless, I wasdeclared to be of a highly nervous and imaginative temperament, and theschool doctor more than once urged our headmaster not to push me forwardtoo rapidly--for which I have ever since held myself his debtor. 

Early in 1890, I being then home from Oxford (where I had been entered inthe preceding year), my mother died; not so much from active illness, asfrom what was in reality a kind of _maladie du pays_. All along she hadfelt herself an exile, and though she had borne up wonderfully during myfather's long struggle with adversity, she began to break as soon asprosperity had removed the necessity for exertion on her own part. 

My father could never divest himself of the feeling that he had wreckedher life by inducing her to share her lot with his own; to say that hewas stricken with remorse on losing her is not enough; he had been sostricken almost from the first year of his marriage; on her death he washaunted by the wrong he accused himself--as it seems to me veryunjustly--of having done her, for it was neither his fault nor hers--itwas Ate. 

His unrest soon assumed the form of a burning desire to revisit thecountry in which he and my mother had been happier together than perhapsthey ever again were. I had often heard him betray a hankering after areturn to Erewhon, disguised so that no one should recognise him; but aslong as my mother lived he would not leave her. When death had taken herfrom him, he so evidently stood in need of a complete change of scene, that even those friends who had most strongly dissuaded him from whatthey deemed a madcap enterprise, thought it better to leave him tohimself. It would have mattered little how much they tried to dissuadehim, for before long his passionate longing for the journey became soovermastering that nothing short of restraint in prison or a madhousecould have stayed his going; but we were not easy about him. "He hadbetter go, " said Mr. Cathie to me, when I was at home for the Eastervacation, "and get it over. He is not well, but he is still in the primeof life; doubtless he will come back with renewed health and will settledown to a quiet home life again. "

This, however, was not said till it had become plain that in a few daysmy father would be on his way. He had made a new will, and left an amplepower of attorney with Mr. Cathie--or, as we always called him, Alfred--who was to supply me with whatever money I wanted; he had put allother matters in order in case anything should happen to prevent his everreturning, and he set out on October 1, 1890, more composed and cheerfulthan I had seen him for some time past. 

I had not realised how serious the danger to my father would be if hewere recognised while he was in Erewhon, for I am ashamed to say that Ihad not yet read his book. I had heard over and over again of his flightwith my mother in the balloon, and had long since read his few openingchapters, but I had found, as a boy naturally would, that the succeedingpages were a little dull, and soon put the book aside. My father, indeed, repeatedly urged me not to read it, for he said there was much init--more especially in the earlier chapters, which I had alone foundinteresting--that he would gladly cancel if he could. "But there!" hehad said with a laugh, "what does it matter?"

He had hardly left, before I read his book from end to end, and, onhaving done so, not only appreciated the risks that he would have to run, but was struck with the wide difference between his character as he hadhimself portrayed it, and the estimate I had formed of it from personalknowledge. When, on his return, he detailed to me his adventures, theaccount he gave of what he had said and done corresponded with my ownideas concerning him; but I doubt not the reader will see that the twentyyears between his first and second visit had modified him even more thanso long an interval might be expected to do. 

I heard from him repeatedly during the first two months of his absence, and was surprised to find that he had stayed for a week or ten days atmore than one place of call on his outward journey. On November 26 hewrote from the port whence he was to start for Erewhon, seemingly in goodhealth and spirits; and on December 27, 1891, he telegraphed for ahundred pounds to be wired out to him at this same port. This puzzledboth Mr. Cathie and myself, for the interval between November 26 andDecember 27 seemed too short to admit of his having paid his visit toErewhon and returned; as, moreover, he had added the words, "Cominghome, " we rather hoped that he had abandoned his intention of goingthere. 

We were also surprised at his wanting so much money, for he had taken ahundred pounds in gold, which from some fancy, he had stowed in a smallsilver jewel-box that he had given my mother not long before she died. Hehad also taken a hundred pounds worth of gold nuggets, which he hadintended to sell in Erewhon so as to provide himself with money when hegot there. 

I should explain that these nuggets would be worth in Erewhon fully tentimes as much as they would in Europe, owing to the great scarcity ofgold in that country. The Erewhonian coinage is entirely silver--whichis abundant, and worth much what it is in England--or copper, which isalso plentiful; but what we should call five pounds' worth of silvermoney would not buy more than one of our half-sovereigns in gold. 

He had put his nuggets into ten brown holland bags, and he had had secretpockets made for the old Erewhonian dress which he had worn when heescaped, so that he need never have more than one bag of nuggetsaccessible at a time. He was not likely, therefore, to have been robbed. His passage to the port above referred to had been paid before hestarted, and it seemed impossible that a man of his very inexpensivehabits should have spent two hundred pounds in a single month--for thenuggets would be immediately convertible in an English colony. There wasnothing, however, to be done but to cable out the money and wait myfather's arrival. 

Returning for a moment to my father's old Erewhonian dress, I should saythat he had preserved it simply as a memento and without any idea that heshould again want it. It was not the court dress that had been providedfor him on the occasion of his visit to the king and queen, but theeveryday clothing that he had been ordered to wear when he was put inprison, though his English coat, waistcoat, and trousers had been allowedto remain in his own possession. These, I had seen from his book, hadbeen presented by him to the queen (with the exception of two buttons, which he had given to Yram as a keepsake), and had been preserved by herdisplayed upon a wooden dummy. The dress in which he escaped had beensoiled during the hours that he and my mother had been in the sea, andhad also suffered from neglect during the years of his poverty; but hewished to pass himself off as a common peasant or working-man, so hepreferred to have it set in order as might best be done, rather thancopied. 

So cautious was he in the matter of dress that he took with him the bootshe had worn on leaving Erewhon, lest the foreign make of his Englishboots should arouse suspicion. They were nearly new, and when he had hadthem softened and well greased, he found he could still wear them quitecomfortably. 

But to return. He reached home late at night one day at the beginning ofFebruary, and a glance was enough to show that he was an altered man. "What is the matter?" said I, shocked at his appearance. "Did you go toErewhon, and were you ill-treated there?"

"I went to Erewhon, " he said, "and I was not ill-treated there, but Ihave been so shaken that I fear I shall quite lose my reason. Do not askme more now. I will tell you about it all to-morrow. Let me havesomething to eat, and go to bed. "

When we met at breakfast next morning, he greeted me with all his usualwarmth of affection, but he was still taciturn. "I will begin to tellyou about it, " he said, "after breakfast. Where is your dear mother? Howwas it that I have . . . "

Then of a sudden his memory returned, and he burst into tears. 

I now saw, to my horror, that his mind was gone. When he recovered, hesaid: "It has all come back again, but at times now I am a blank, andevery week am more and more so. I daresay I shall be sensible now forseveral hours. We will go into the study after breakfast, and I willtalk to you as long as I can do so. "

Let the reader spare me, and let me spare the reader any description ofwhat we both of us felt. 

When we were in the study, my father said, "My dearest boy, get pen andpaper and take notes of what I tell you. It will be all disjointed; oneday I shall remember this, and another that, but there will not be manymore days on which I shall remember anything at all. I cannot write acoherent page. You, when I am gone, can piece what I tell you together, and tell it as I should have told it if I had been still sound. But donot publish it yet; it might do harm to those dear good people. Take thenotes now, and arrange them the sooner the better, for you may want toask me questions, and I shall not be here much longer. Let publishingwait till you are confident that publication can do no harm; and aboveall, say nothing to betray the whereabouts of Erewhon, beyond admitting(which I fear I have already done) that it is in the Southernhemisphere. "

These instructions I have religiously obeyed. For the first days afterhis return, my father had few attacks of loss of memory, and I was inhopes that his former health of mind would return when he found himselfin his old surroundings. During these days he poured forth the story ofhis adventures so fast, that if I had not had a fancy for acquiringshorthand, I should not have been able to keep pace with him. Irepeatedly urged him not to overtax his strength, but he was oppressed bythe fear that if he did not speak at once, he might never be able to tellme all he had to say; I had, therefore, to submit, though seeing plainlyenough that he was only hastening the complete paralysis which he sogreatly feared. 

Sometimes his narrative would be coherent for pages together, and hecould answer any questions without hesitation; at others, he was now hereand now there, and if I tried to keep him to the order of events he wouldsay that he had forgotten intermediate incidents, but that they wouldprobably come back to him, and I should perhaps be able to put them intheir proper places. 

After about ten days he seemed satisfied that I had got all the facts, and that with the help of the pamphlets which he had brought with him Ishould be able to make out a connected story. "Remember, " he said, "thatI thought I was quite well so long as I was in Erewhon, and do not let meappear as anything else. "

When he had fully delivered himself, he seemed easier in his mind, butbefore a month had passed he became completely paralysed, and though helingered till the beginning of June, he was seldom more than dimlyconscious of what was going on around him. 

His death robbed me of one who had been a very kind and upright elderbrother rather than a father; and so strongly have I felt his influencestill present, living and working, as I believe for better within me, that I did not hesitate to copy the epitaph which he saw in the MusicalBank at Fairmead, {1} and to have it inscribed on the very simplemonument which he desired should alone mark his grave. 

* * * * *

The foregoing was written in the summer of 1891; what I now add should bedated December 3, 1900. If, in the course of my work, I havemisrepresented my father, as I fear I may have sometimes done, I wouldask my readers to remember that no man can tell another's story withoutsome involuntary misrepresentation both of facts and characters. Theywill, of course, see that "Erewhon Revisited" is written by one who hasfar less literary skill than the author of "Erewhon;" but again I wouldask indulgence on the score of youth, and the fact that this is my firstbook. It was written nearly ten years ago, _i. E_. In the months fromMarch to August 1891, but for reasons already given it could not then bemade public. I have now received permission, and therefore publish thefollowing chapters, exactly, or very nearly exactly, as they were leftwhen I had finished editing my father's diaries, and the notes I tookdown from his own mouth--with the exception, of course, of these last fewlines, hurriedly written as I am on the point of leaving England, of theadditions I made in 1892, on returning from my own three hours' stay inErewhon, and of the Postscript. 

CHAPTER II: TO THE FOOT OF THE PASS INTO EREWHON

When my father reached the colony for which he had left England sometwenty-two years previously, he bought a horse, and started up country onthe evening of the day after his arrival, which was, as I have said, onone of the last days of November 1890. He had taken an English saddlewith him, and a couple of roomy and strongly made saddle-bags. In thesehe packed his money, his nuggets, some tea, sugar, tobacco, salt, a flaskof brandy, matches, and as many ship's biscuits as he thought he waslikely to want; he took no meat, for he could supply himself from someaccommodation-house or sheep-station, when nearing the point after whichhe would have to begin camping out. He rolled his Erewhonian dress andsmall toilette necessaries inside a warm red blanket, and strapped theroll on to the front part of his saddle. On to other D's, with which hissaddle was amply provided, he strapped his Erewhonian boots, a tinpannikin, and a billy that would hold about a quart. I should, perhaps, explain to English readers that a billy is a tin can, the name for which(doubtless of French Canadian origin) is derived from the words "_fairebouillir_. " He also took with him a pair of hobbles and a small hatchet. 

He spent three whole days in riding across the plains, and was struckwith the very small signs of change that he could detect, but the fall inwool, and the failure, so far, to establish a frozen meat trade, hadprevented any material development of the resources of the country. Whenhe had got to the front ranges, he followed up the river next to thenorth of the one that he had explored years ago, and from the head watersof which he had been led to discover the only practicable pass intoErewhon. He did this, partly to avoid the terribly dangerous descent onto the bed of the more northern river, and partly to escape being seen byshepherds or bullock-drivers who might remember him. 

If he had attempted to get through the gorge of this river in 1870, hewould have found it impassable; but a few river-bed flats had beendiscovered above the gorge, on which there was now a shepherd's hut, andon the discovery of these flats a narrow horse track had been made fromone end of the gorge to the other. 

He was hospitably entertained at the shepherd's hut just mentioned, whichhe reached on Monday, December 1. He told the shepherd in charge of itthat he had come to see if he could find traces of a large wingless bird, whose existence had been reported as having been discovered among theextreme head waters of the river. 

"Be careful, sir, " said the shepherd; "the river is very dangerous;several people--one only about a year ago--have left this hut, and thoughtheir horses and their camps have been found, their bodies have not. Whena great fresh comes down, it would carry a body out to sea in twenty-fourhours. "

He evidently had no idea that there was a pass through the ranges up theriver, which might explain the disappearance of an explorer. 

Next day my father began to ascend the river. There was so much tangledgrowth still unburnt wherever there was room for it to grow, and so muchswamp, that my father had to keep almost entirely to the river-bed--andhere there was a good deal of quicksand. The stones also were oftenlarge for some distance together, and he had to cross and recross streamsof the river more than once, so that though he travelled all day with theexception of a couple of hours for dinner, he had not made more than somefive and twenty miles when he reached a suitable camping ground, where heunsaddled his horse, hobbled him, and turned him out to feed. The grasswas beginning to seed, so that though it was none too plentiful, whatthere was of it made excellent feed. 

He lit his fire, made himself some tea, ate his cold mutton and biscuits, and lit his pipe, exactly as he had done twenty years before. There wasthe clear starlit sky, the rushing river, and the stunted trees on themountain-side; the woodhens cried, and the "more-pork" hooted out her twomonotonous notes exactly as they had done years since; one moment, andtime had so flown backwards that youth came bounding back to him with thereturn of his youth's surroundings; the next, and the intervening twentyyears--most of them grim ones--rose up mockingly before him, and thebuoyancy of hope yielded to the despondency of admitted failure. By andby buoyancy reasserted itself, and, soothed by the peace and beauty ofthe night, he wrapped himself up in his blanket and dropped off into adreamless slumber. 

Next morning, _i. E_. December 3, he rose soon after dawn, bathed in abackwater of the river, got his breakfast, found his horse on the river-bed, and started as soon as he had duly packed and loaded. He had now tocross streams of the river and recross them more often than on thepreceding day, and this, though his horse took well to the water, required care; for he was anxious not to wet his saddle-bags, and it wasonly by crossing at the wide, smooth, water above a rapid, and by pickingplaces where the river ran in two or three streams, that he could findfords where his practised eye told him that the water would not be abovehis horse's belly--for the river was of great volume. Fortunately, therehad been a late fall of snow on the higher ranges, and the river was, forthe summer season, low. 

Towards evening, having travelled, so far as he could guess, some twentyor five and twenty miles (for he had made another mid day halt), hereached the place, which he easily recognised, as that where he hadcamped before crossing to the pass that led into Erewhon. It was thelast piece of ground that could be called a flat (though it was inreality only the sloping delta of a stream that descended from the pass)before reaching a large glacier that had encroached on the river-bed, which it traversed at right angles for a considerable distance. 

Here he again camped, hobbled his horse, and turned him adrift, hopingthat he might again find him some two or three months hence, for therewas a good deal of sweet grass here and there, with sow-thistle andanise; and the coarse tussock grass would be in full seed shortly, whichalone would keep him going for as long a time as my father expected to beaway. Little did he think that he should want him again so shortly. 

Having attended to his horse, he got his supper, and while smoking hispipe congratulated himself on the way in which something had smoothedaway all the obstacles that had so nearly baffled him on his earlierjourney. Was he being lured on to his destruction by some maliciousfiend, or befriended by one who had compassion on him and wished himwell? His naturally sanguine temperament inclined him to adopt thefriendly spirit theory, in the peace of which he again laid himself downto rest, and slept soundly from dark till dawn. 

In the morning, though the water was somewhat icy, he again bathed, andthen put on his Erewhonian boots and dress. He stowed his Europeanclothes, with some difficulty, into his saddle-bags. Herein also he lefthis case full of English sovereigns, his spare pipes, his purse, whichcontained two pounds in gold and seven or eight shillings, part of hisstock of tobacco, and whatever provision was left him, except themeat--which he left for sundry hawks and parrots that were eyeing hisproceedings apparently without fear of man. His nuggets he concealed inthe secret pockets of which I have already spoken, keeping one bag aloneaccessible. 

He had had his hair and beard cut short on shipboard the day before helanded. These he now dyed with a dye that he had brought from England, and which in a few minutes turned them very nearly black. He alsostained his face and hands deep brown. He hung his saddle and bridle, his English boots, and his saddle-bags on the highest bough that he couldreach, and made them fairly fast with strips of flax leaf, for there wassome stunted flax growing on the ground where he had camped. He fearedthat, do what he might, they would not escape the inquisitivethievishness of the parrots, whose strong beaks could easily cut leather;but he could do nothing more. It occurs to me, though my father nevertold me so, that it was perhaps with a view to these birds that he hadchosen to put his English sovereigns into a metal box, with a clasp to itwhich would defy them. 

He made a roll of his blanket, and slung it over his shoulder; he alsotook his pipe, tobacco, a little tea, a few ship's biscuits, and hisbilly and pannikin; matches and salt go without saying. When he had thusordered everything as nearly to his satisfaction as he could, he lookedat his watch for the last time, as he believed, till many weeks shouldhave gone by, and found it to be about seven o'clock. Remembering whattrouble it had got him into years before, he took down his saddle-bags, reopened them, and put the watch inside. He then set himself to climbthe mountain side, towards the saddle on which he had seen the statues. 

CHAPTER III: MY FATHER WHILE CAMPING IS ACCOSTED BY PROFESSORS HANKY ANDPANKY

My father found the ascent more fatiguing than he remembered it to havebeen. The climb, he said, was steady, and took him between four and fivehours, as near as he could guess, now that he had no watch; but itoffered nothing that could be called a difficulty, and the watercoursethat came down from the saddle was a sufficient guide; once or twicethere were waterfalls, but they did not seriously delay him. 

After he had climbed some three thousand feet, he began to be on thealert for some sound of ghostly chanting from the statues; but he heardnothing, and toiled on till he came to a sprinkling of fresh snow--partof the fall which he had observed on the preceding day as having whitenedthe higher mountains; he knew, therefore, that he must now be nearing thesaddle. The snow grew rapidly deeper, and by the time he reached thestatues the ground was covered to a depth of two or three inches. 

He found the statues smaller than he had expected. He had said in hisbook--written many months after he had seen them--that they were aboutsix times the size of life, but he now thought that four or five timeswould have been enough to say. Their mouths were much clogged with snow, so that even though there had been a strong wind (which there was not)they would not have chanted. In other respects he found them not lessmysteriously impressive than at first. He walked two or three times allround them, and then went on. 

The snow did not continue far down, but before long my father entered athick bank of cloud, and had to feel his way cautiously along the streamthat descended from the pass. It was some two hours before he emergedinto clear air, and found himself on the level bed of an old lake nowgrassed over. He had quite forgotten this feature of the descent--perhapsthe clouds had hung over it; he was overjoyed, however, to find that theflat ground abounded with a kind of quail, larger than ours, and hardly, if at all, smaller than a partridge. The abundance of these quailssurprised him, for he did not remember them as plentiful anywhere on theErewhonian side of the mountains. 

The Erewhonian quail, like its now nearly, if not quite, extinct NewZealand congener, can take three successive flights of a few yards each, but then becomes exhausted; hence quails are only found on ground that isnever burned, and where there are no wild animals to molest them; thecats and dogs that accompany European civilisation soon exterminate them;my father, therefore, felt safe in concluding that he was still far fromany village. Moreover he could see no sheep or goat's dung; and thissurprised him, for he thought he had found signs of pasturage much higherthan this. Doubtless, he said to himself, when he wrote his book he hadforgotten how long the descent had been. But it was odd, for the grasswas good feed enough, and ought, he considered, to have been wellstocked. 

Tired with his climb, during which he had not rested to take food, buthad eaten biscuits, as he walked, he gave himself a good long rest, andwhen refreshed, he ran down a couple of dozen quails, some of which hemeant to eat when he camped for the night, while the others would helphim out of a difficulty which had been troubling him for some time. 

What was he to say when people asked him, as they were sure to do, how hewas living? And how was he to get enough Erewhonian money to keep himgoing till he could find some safe means of selling a few of his nuggets?He had had a little Erewhonian money when he went up in the balloon, buthad thrown it over, with everything else except the clothes he wore andhis MSS. , when the balloon was nearing the water. He had nothing withhim that he dared offer for sale, and though he had plenty of gold, wasin reality penniless. 

When, therefore, he saw the quails, he again felt as though some friendlyspirit was smoothing his way before him. What more easy than to sellthem at Coldharbour (for so the name of the town in which he had beenimprisoned should be translated), where he knew they were a delicacy, andwould fetch him the value of an English shilling a piece?

It took him between two and three hours to catch two dozen. When he hadthus got what he considered a sufficient stock, he tied their legstogether with rushes, and ran a stout stick through the whole lot. Soonafterwards he came upon a wood of stunted pines, which, though there wasnot much undergrowth, nevertheless afforded considerable shelter andenabled him to gather wood enough to make himself a good fire. This wasacceptable, for though the days were long, it was now evening, and assoon as the sun had gone the air became crisp and frosty. 

Here he resolved to pass the night. He chose a part where the trees werethickest, lit his fire, plucked and cleaned four quails, filled his billywith water from the stream hard by, made tea in his pannikin, grilled twoof his birds on the embers, ate them, and when he had done all this, helit his pipe and began to think things over. "So far so good, " said heto himself; but hardly had the words passed through his mind before hewas startled by the sound of voices, still at some distance, butevidently drawing towards him. 

He instantly gathered up his billy, pannikin, tea, biscuits, and blanket, all of which he had determined to discard and hide on the followingmorning; everything that could betray him he carried full haste into thewood some few yards off, in the direction opposite to that from which thevoices were coming, but he let his quails lie where they were, and puthis pipe and tobacco in his pocket. 

The voices drew nearer and nearer, and it was all my father could do toget back and sit down innocently by his fire, before he could hear whatwas being said. 

"Thank goodness, " said one of the speakers (of course in the Erewhonianlanguage), "we seem to be finding somebody at last. I hope it is notsome poacher; we had better be careful. "

"Nonsense!" said the other. "It must be one of the rangers. No onewould dare to light a fire while poaching on the King's preserves. Whato'clock do you make it?"

"Half after nine. " And the watch was still in the speaker's hand as heemerged from darkness into the glowing light of the fire. My fatherglanced at it, and saw that it was exactly like the one he had worn onentering Erewhon nearly twenty years previously. 

The watch, however, was a very small matter; the dress of these two men(for there were only two) was far more disconcerting. They were not inthe Erewhonian costume. The one was dressed like an Englishman or would-be Englishman, while the other was wearing the same kind of clothes butturned the wrong way round, so that when his face was towards my fatherhis body seemed to have its back towards him, and _vice verso_. Theman's head, in fact, appeared to have been screwed right round; and yetit was plain that if he were stripped he would be found built like otherpeople. 

What could it all mean? The men were about fifty years old. They werewell-to-do people, well clad, well fed, and were felt instinctively by myfather to belong to the academic classes. That one of them should bedressed like a sensible Englishman dismayed my father as much as that theother should have a watch, and look as if he had just broken out ofBedlam, or as King Dagobert must have looked if he had worn all hisclothes as he is said to have worn his breeches. Both wore their clothesso easily--for he who wore them reversed had evidently been measured witha view to this absurd fashion--that it was plain their dress washabitual. 

My father was alarmed as well as astounded, for he saw that what littleplan of a campaign he had formed must be reconstructed, and he had noidea in what direction his next move should be taken; but he was a readyman, and knew that when people have taken any idea into their heads, alittle confirmation will fix it. A first idea is like a strong seedling;it will grow if it can. 

In less time than it will have taken the reader to get through the lastforegoing paragraphs, my father took up the cue furnished him by thesecond speaker. 

"Yes, " said he, going boldly up to this gentleman, "I am one of therangers, and it is my duty to ask you what you are doing here upon theKing's preserves. "

"Quite so, my man, " was the rejoinder. "We have been to see the statuesat the head of the pass, and have a permit from the Mayor of Sunch'stonto enter upon the preserves. We lost ourselves in the thick fog, bothgoing and coming back. "

My father inwardly blessed the fog. He did not catch the name of thetown, but presently found that it was commonly pronounced as I havewritten it. 

"Be pleased to show it me, " said my father in his politest manner. Onthis a document was handed to him. 

I will here explain that I shall translate the names of men and places, as well as the substance of the document; and I shall translate all namesin future. Indeed I have just done so in the case of Sunch'ston. As anexample, let me explain that the true Erewhonian names for Hanky andPanky, to whom the reader will be immediately introduced, are Sukoh andSukop--names too cacophonous to be read with pleasure by the Englishpublic. I must ask the reader to believe that in all cases I am doing mybest to give the spirit of the original name. 

I would also express my regret that my father did not either uniformlykeep to the true Erewhonian names, as in the cases of Senoj Nosnibor, Ydgrun, Thims, &c. --names which occur constantly in Erewhon--or elseinvariably invent a name, as he did whenever he considered the true nameimpossible. My poor mother's name, for example, was really Nna Haras, and Mahaina's Enaj Ysteb, which he dared not face. He, therefore, gavethese characters the first names that euphony suggested, without anyattempt at translation. Rightly or wrongly, I have determined to keepconsistently to translation for all names not used in my father's book;and throughout, whether as regards names or conversations, I shalltranslate with the freedom without which no translation rises aboveconstrue level. 

Let me now return to the permit. The earlier part of the document wasprinted, and ran as follows:-

 "Extracts from the Act for the afforesting of certain lands lying between the town of Sunchildston, formerly called Coldharbour, and the mountains which bound the kingdom of Erewhon, passed in the year Three, being the eighth year of the reign of his Most Gracious Majesty King Well-beloved the Twenty-Second. 

 "Whereas it is expedient to prevent any of his Majesty's subjects from trying to cross over into unknown lands beyond the mountains, and in like manner to protect his Majesty's kingdom from intrusion on the part of foreign devils, it is hereby enacted that certain lands, more particularly described hereafter, shall be afforested and set apart as a hunting-ground for his Majesty's private use. 

 "It is also enacted that the Rangers and Under-rangers shall be required to immediately kill without parley any foreign devil whom they may encounter coming from the other side of the mountains. They are to weight the body, and throw it into the Blue Pool under the waterfall shown on the plan hereto annexed; but on pain of imprisonment for life they shall not reserve to their own use any article belonging to the deceased. Neither shall they divulge what they have done to any one save the Head Ranger, who shall report the circumstances of the case fully and minutely to his Majesty. 

 "As regards any of his Majesty's subjects who may be taken while trespassing on his Majesty's preserves without a special permit signed by the Mayor of Sunchildston, or any who may be convicted of poaching on the said preserves, the Rangers shall forthwith arrest them and bring them before the Mayor of Sunchildston, who shall enquire into their antecedents, and punish them with such term of imprisonment, with hard labour, as he may think fit, provided that no such term be of less duration than twelve calendar months. 

 "For the further provisions of the said Act, those whom it may concern are referred to the Act in full, a copy of which may be seen at the official residence of the Mayor of Sunchildston. "

Then followed in MS. "XIX. Xii. 29. Permit Professor Hanky, RoyalProfessor of Worldly Wisdom at Bridgeford, seat of learning, city of thepeople who are above suspicion, and Professor Panky, Royal Professor ofUnworldly Wisdom in the said city, or either of them" [here the MS. Ended, the rest of the permit being in print] "to pass freely during thespace of forty-eight hours from the date hereof, over the King'spreserves, provided, under pain of imprisonment with hard labour fortwelve months, that they do not kill, nor cause to be killed, nor eat, ifanother have killed, any one or more of his Majesty's quails. "

The signature was such a scrawl that my father could not read it, butunderneath was printed, "Mayor of Sunchildston, formerly calledColdharbour. "

What a mass of information did not my father gather as he read, but whata far greater mass did he not see that he must get hold of ere he couldreconstruct his plans intelligently. 

"The year three, " indeed; and XIX. Xii. 29, in Roman and Arabiccharacters! There were no such characters when he was in Erewhon before. It flashed upon him that he had repeatedly shewn them to the Nosnibors, and had once even written them down. It could not be that . . . No, itwas impossible; and yet there was the European dress, aimed at by the oneProfessor, and attained by the other. Again "XIX. " what was that? "xii. "might do for December, but it was now the 4th of December not the 29th. "Afforested" too? Then that was why he had seen no sheep tracks. Andhow about the quails he had so innocently killed? What would havehappened if he had tried to sell them in Coldharbour? What other likefatal error might he not ignorantly commit? And why had Coldharbourbecome Sunchildston?

These thoughts raced through my poor father's brain as he slowly perusedthe paper handed to him by the Professors. To give himself time hefeigned to be a poor scholar, but when he had delayed as long as hedared, he returned it to the one who had given it him. Without changinga muscle he said--

"Your permit, sir, is quite regular. You can either stay here the nightor go on to Sunchildston as you think fit. May I ask which of you twogentlemen is Professor Hanky, and which Professor Panky?"

"My name is Panky, " said the one who had the watch, who wore his clothesreversed, and who had thought my father might be a poacher. 

"And mine Hanky, " said the other. 

"What do you think, Panky, " he added, turning to his brother Professor, "had we not better stay here till sunrise? We are both of us tired, andthis fellow can make us a good fire. It is very dark, and there will beno moon this two hours. We are hungry, but we can hold out till we getto Sunchildston; it cannot be more than eight or nine miles furtherdown. "

Panky assented, but then, turning sharply to my father, he said, "My man, what are you doing in the forbidden dress? Why are you not in ranger'suniform, and what is the meaning of all those quails?" For his seedlingidea that my father was in reality a poacher was doing its best to grow. 

Quick as thought my father answered, "The Head Ranger sent me a messagethis morning to deliver him three dozen quails at Sunchildston byto-morrow afternoon. As for the dress, we can run the quails downquicker in it, and he says nothing to us so long as we only wear out oldclothes and put on our uniforms before we near the town. My uniform isin the ranger's shelter an hour and a half higher up the valley. "

"See what comes, " said Panky, "of having a whippersnapper not yet twentyyears old in the responsible post of Head Ranger. As for this fellow, hemay be speaking the truth, but I distrust him. "

"The man is all right, Panky, " said Hanky, "and seems to be a decentfellow enough. " Then to my father, "How many brace have you got?" Andhe looked at them a little wistfully. 

"I have been at it all day, sir, and I have only got eight brace. I mustrun down ten more brace to-morrow. "

"I see, I see. " Then, turning to Panky, he said, "Of course, they arewanted for the Mayor's banquet on Sunday. By the way, we have not yetreceived our invitation; I suppose we shall find it when we get back toSunchildston. "

"Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!" groaned my father inwardly; but he changed nota muscle of his face, and said stolidly to Professor Hanky, "I think youmust be right, sir; but there was nothing said about it to me, I was onlytold to bring the birds. "

Thus tenderly did he water the Professor's second seedling. But Pankyhad his seedling too, and, Cain-like, was jealous that Hanky's shouldflourish while his own was withering. 

"And what, pray, my man, " he said somewhat peremptorily to my father, "are those two plucked quails doing? Were you to deliver them plucked?And what bird did those bones belong to which I see lying by the firewith the flesh all eaten off them? Are the under-rangers allowed notonly to wear the forbidden dress but to eat the King's quails as well?"

The form in which the question was asked gave my father his cue. Helaughed heartily, and said, "Why, sir, those plucked birds are landrails, not quails, and those bones are landrail bones. Look at this thigh-bone;was there ever a quail with such a bone as that?"

I cannot say whether or no Professor Panky was really deceived by thesweet effrontery with which my father proffered him the bone. If he wastaken in, his answer was dictated simply by a donnish unwillingness toallow any one to be better informed on any subject than he was himself. 

My father, when I suggested this to him, would not hear of it. "Oh no, "he said; "the man knew well enough that I was lying. " However this maybe, the Professor's manner changed. 

"You are right, " he said, "I thought they were landrail bones, but wasnot sure till I had one in my hand. I see, too, that the plucked birdsare landrails, but there is little light, and I have not often seen themwithout their feathers. "

"I think, " said my father to me, "that Hanky knew what his friend meant, for he said, 'Panky, I am very hungry. '"

"Oh, Hanky, Hanky, " said the other, modulating his harsh voice till itwas quite pleasant. "Don't corrupt the poor man. "

"Panky, drop that; we are not at Bridgeford now; I am very hungry, and Ibelieve half those birds are not quails but landrails. "

My father saw he was safe. He said, "Perhaps some of them might prove tobe so, sir, under certain circumstances. I am a poor man, sir. "

"Come, come, " said Hanky; and he slipped a sum equal to abouthalf-a-crown into my father's hand. 

"I do not know what you mean, sir, " said my father, "and if I did, half-a-crown would not be nearly enough. "

"Hanky, " said Panky, "you must get this fellow to give you lessons. "

CHAPTER IV: MY FATHER OVERHEARS MORE OF HANKY AND PANKY'S CONVERSATION

My father, schooled under adversity, knew that it was never well to pressadvantage too far. He took the equivalent of five shillings for threebrace, which was somewhat less than the birds would have been worth whenthings were as he had known them. Moreover, he consented to take ashilling's worth of Musical Bank money, which (as he has explained in hisbook) has no appreciable value outside these banks. He did this becausehe knew that it would be respectable to be seen carrying a little MusicalBank money, and also because he wished to give some of it to the BritishMuseum, where he knew that this curious coinage was unrepresented. Butthe coins struck him as being much thinner and smaller than he hadremembered them. 

It was Panky, not Hanky, who had given him the Musical Bank money. Pankywas the greater humbug of the two, for he would humbug even himself--athing, by the way, not very hard to do; and yet he was the lesssuccessful humbug, for he could humbug no one who was worthhumbugging--not for long. Hanky's occasional frankness put people offtheir guard. He was the mere common, superficial, perfunctory Professor, who, being a Professor, would of course profess, but would not lie morethan was in the bond; he was log-rolled and log-rolling, but still, in arobust wolfish fashion, human. 

Panky, on the other hand, was hardly human; he had thrown himself soearnestly into his work, that he had become a living lie. If he had hadto play the part of Othello he would have blacked himself all over, andvery likely smothered his Desdemona in good earnest. Hanky would hardlyhave blacked himself behind the ears, and his Desdemona would have beenquite safe. 

Philosophers are like quails in the respect that they can take two orthree flights of imagination, but rarely more without an interval ofrepose. The Professors had imagined my father to be a poacher and aranger; they had imagined the quails to be wanted for Sunday's banquet;they had imagined that they imagined (at least Panky had) that they wereabout to eat landrails; they were now exhausted, and cowered down intothe grass of their ordinary conversation, paying no more attention to myfather than if he had been a log. He, poor man, drank in every word theysaid, while seemingly intent on nothing but his quails, each one of whichhe cut up with a knife borrowed from Hanky. Two had been pluckedalready, so he laid these at once upon the clear embers. 

"I do not know what we are to do with ourselves, " said Hanky, "tillSunday. To-day is Thursday--it is the twenty-ninth, is it not? Yes, ofcourse it is--Sunday is the first. Besides, it is on our permit. To-morrow we can rest; what, I wonder, can we do on Saturday? But theothers will be here then, and we can tell them about the statues. "

"Yes, but mind you do not blurt out anything about the landrails. "

"I think we may tell Dr. Downie. "

"Tell nobody, " said Panky. 

They then talked about the statues, concerning which it was plain thatnothing was known. But my father soon broke in upon their conversationwith the first instalment of quails, which a few minutes had sufficed tocook. 

"What a delicious bird a quail is, " said Hanky. 

"Landrail, Hanky, landrail, " said the other reproachfully. 

Having finished the first birds in a very few minutes they returned tothe statues. 

"Old Mrs. Nosnibor, " said Panky, "says the Sunchild told her they weresymbolic of ten tribes who had incurred the displeasure of the sun, hisfather. "

I make no comment on my father's feelings. 

"Of the sun! his fiddlesticks' ends, " retorted Hanky. "He never calledthe sun his father. Besides, from all I have heard about him, I take ithe was a precious idiot. "

"O Hanky, Hanky! you will wreck the whole thing if you ever allowyourself to talk in that way. "

"You are more likely to wreck it yourself, Panky, by never doing so. People like being deceived, but they like also to have an inkling oftheir own deception, and you never inkle them. "

"The Queen, " said Panky, returning to the statues, "sticks to it that . . . "

"Here comes another bird, " interrupted Hanky; "never mind about theQueen. "

The bird was soon eaten, whereon Panky again took up his parable aboutthe Queen. 

"The Queen says they are connected with the cult of the ancient GoddessKiss-me-quick. "

"What if they are? But the Queen sees Kiss-me-quick in everything. Another quail, if you please, Mr. Ranger. "

My father brought up another bird almost directly. Silence while it wasbeing eaten. 

"Talking of the Sunchild, " said Panky; "did you ever see him?"

"Never set eyes on him, and hope I never shall. "

And so on till the last bird was eaten. 

"Fellow, " said Panky, "fetch some more wood; the fire is nearly dead. "

"I can find no more, sir, " said my father, who was afraid lest somegenuine ranger might be attracted by the light, and was determined to letit go out as soon as he had done cooking. 

"Never mind, " said Hanky, "the moon will be up soon. "

"And now, Hanky, " said Panky, "tell me what you propose to say on Sunday. I suppose you have pretty well made up your mind about it by this time. "

"Pretty nearly. I shall keep it much on the usual lines. I shall dwellupon the benighted state from which the Sunchild rescued us, and shallshow how the Musical Banks, by at once taking up the movement, have beenthe blessed means of its now almost universal success. I shall talkabout the immortal glory shed upon Sunch'ston by the Sunchild's residencein the prison, and wind up with the Sunchild Evidence Society, and anearnest appeal for funds to endow the canonries required for the dueservice of the temple. "

"Temple! what temple?" groaned my father inwardly. 

"And what are you going to do about the four black and white horses?"

"Stick to them, of course--unless I make them six. "

"I really do not see why they might not have been horses. "

"I dare say you do not, " returned the other drily, "but they were blackand white storks, and you know that as well as I do. Still, they havecaught on, and they are in the altar-piece, prancing and curvettingmagnificently, so I shall trot them out. "

"Altar-piece! Altar-piece!" again groaned my father inwardly. 

He need not have groaned, for when he came to see the so-called altar-piece he found that the table above which it was placed had nothing incommon with the altar in a Christian church. It was a mere table, onwhich were placed two bowls full of Musical Bank coins; two cashiers, whosat on either side of it, dispensed a few of these to all comers, whilethere was a box in front of it wherein people deposited coin of the realmaccording to their will or ability. The idea of sacrifice was notcontemplated, and the position of the table, as well as the name given toit, was an instance of the way in which the Erewhonians had caught namesand practices from my father, without understanding what they either wereor meant. So, again, when Professor Hanky had spoken of canonries, hehad none but the vaguest idea of what a canonry is. 

I may add further that as a boy my father had had his Bible well drilledinto him, and never forgot it. Hence biblical passages and expressionshad been often in his mouth, as the effect of mere unconsciouscerebration. The Erewhonians had caught many of these, sometimescorrupting them so that they were hardly recognizable. Things that heremembered having said were continually meeting him during the few daysof his second visit, and it shocked him deeply to meet some grosstravesty of his own words, or of words more sacred than his own, and yetto be unable to correct it. "I wonder, " he said to me, "that no one hasever hit on this as a punishment for the damned in Hades. "

Let me now return to Professor Hanky, whom I fear that I have left toolong. 

"And of course, " he continued, "I shall say all sorts of pretty thingsabout the Mayoress--for I suppose we must not even think of her as Yramnow. "

"The Mayoress, " replied Panky, "is a very dangerous woman; see how shestood out about the way in which the Sunchild had worn his clothes beforethey gave him the then Erewhonian dress. Besides, she is a sceptic atheart, and so is that precious son of hers. "

"She was quite right, " said Hanky, with something of a snort. "Shebrought him his dinner while he was still wearing the clothes he came in, and if men do not notice how a man wears his clothes, women do. Besides, there are many living who saw him wear them. "

"Perhaps, " said Panky, "but we should never have talked the King over ifwe had not humoured him on this point. Yram nearly wrecked us by herobstinacy. If we had not frightened her, and if your study, Hanky, hadnot happened to have been burned . . . "

"Come, come, Panky, no more of that. "

"Of course I do not doubt that it was an accident; nevertheless if yourstudy had not been accidentally burned, on the very night the clotheswere entrusted to you for earnest, patient, careful, scientificinvestigation--and Yram very nearly burned too--we should never havecarried it through. See what work we had to get the King to allow theway in which the clothes were worn to be a matter of opinion, not dogma. What a pity it is that the clothes were not burned before the King'stailor had copied them. "

Hanky laughed heartily enough. "Yes, " he said, "it was touch and go. Why, I wonder, could not the Queen have put the clothes on a dummy thatwould show back from front? As soon as it was brought into the councilchamber the King jumped to a conclusion, and we had to bundle both dummyand Yram out of the royal presence, for neither she nor the King wouldbudge an inch. 

Even Panky smiled. "What could we do? The common people almost worshipYram; and so does her husband, though her fair-haired eldest son was bornbarely seven months after marriage. The people in these parts like tothink that the Sunchild's blood is in the country, and yet they swearthrough thick and thin that he is the Mayor's duly begottenoffspring--Faugh! Do you think they would have stood his being jobbedinto the rangership by any one else but Yram?"

My father's feelings may be imagined, but I will not here interrupt theProfessors. 

"Well, well, " said Hanky; "for men must rob and women must job so long asthe world goes on. I did the best I could. The King would never haveembraced Sunchildism if I had not told him he was right; then, whensatisfied that we agreed with him, he yielded to popular prejudice andallowed the question to remain open. One of his Royal Professors was towear the clothes one way, and the other the other. "

"My way of wearing them, " said Panky, "is much the most convenient. "

"Not a bit of it, " said Hanky warmly. On this the two Professors fellout, and the discussion grew so hot that my father interfered by advisingthem not to talk so loud lest another ranger should hear them. "Youknow, " he said, "there are a good many landrail bones lying about, and itmight be awkward. "

The Professors hushed at once. "By the way, " said Panky, after a pause, "it is very strange about those footprints in the snow. The man hadevidently walked round the statues two or three times, as though theywere strange to him, and he had certainly come from the other side. "

"It was one of the rangers, " said Hanky impatiently, "who had gone alittle beyond the statues, and come back again. "

"Then we should have seen his footprints as he went. I am glad Imeasured them. "

"There is nothing in it; but what were your measurements?"

"Eleven inches by four and a half; nails on the soles; one nail missingon the right foot and two on the left. " Then, turning to my fatherquickly, he said, "My man, allow me to have a look at your boots. "

"Nonsense, Panky, nonsense!"

Now my father by this time was wondering whether he should not set uponthese two men, kill them if he could, and make the best of his way back, but he had still a card to play. 

"Certainly, sir, " said he, "but I should tell you that they are not myboots. "

He took off his right boot and handed it to Panky. 

"Exactly so! Eleven inches by four and a half, and one nail missing. Andnow, Mr. Ranger, will you be good enough to explain how you becamepossessed of that boot. You need not show me the other. " And he spokelike an examiner who was confident that he could floor his examinee in_viva voce_. 

"You know our orders, " answered my father, "you have seen them on yourpermit. I met one of those foreign devils from the other side, of whomwe have had more than one lately; he came from out of the clouds thathang higher up, and as he had no permit and could not speak a word of ourlanguage, I gripped him, flung him, and strangled him. Thus far I wasonly obeying orders, but seeing how much better his boots were than mine, and finding that they would fit me, I resolved to keep them. You may besure I should not have done so if I had known there was snow on the topof the pass. "

"He could not invent that, " said Hanky; "it is plain he has not been upto the statues. "

Panky was staggered. "And of course, " said he ironically, "you tooknothing from this poor wretch except his boots. "

"Sir, " said my father, "I will make a clean breast of everything. Iflung his body, his clothes, and my own old boots into the pool; but Ikept his blanket, some things he used for cooking, and some strange stuffthat looks like dried leaves, as well as a small bag of something which Ibelieve is gold. I thought I could sell the lot to some dealer incuriosities who would ask no questions. "

"And what, pray, have you done with all these things?"

"They are here, sir. " And as he spoke he dived into the wood, returningwith the blanket, billy, pannikin, tea, and the little bag of nuggets, which he had kept accessible. 

"This is very strange, " said Hanky, who was beginning to be afraid of myfather when he learned that he sometimes killed people. 

Here the Professors talked hurriedly to one another in a tongue which myfather could not understand, but which he felt sure was the hypotheticallanguage of which he has spoken in his book. 

Presently Hanky said to my father quite civilly, "And what, my good man, do you propose to do with all these things? I should tell you at oncethat what you take to be gold is nothing of the kind; it is a base metal, hardly, if at all, worth more than copper. "

"I have had enough of them; to-morrow morning I shall take them with meto the Blue Pool, and drop them into it. "

"It is a pity you should do that, " said Hanky musingly: "the things areinteresting as curiosities, and--and--and--what will you take for them?"

"I could not do it, sir, " answered my father. "I would not do it, no, not for--" and he named a sum equivalent to about five pounds of ourmoney. For he wanted Erewhonian money, and thought it worth his while tosacrifice his ten pounds' worth of nuggets in order to get a supply ofcurrent coin. 

Hanky tried to beat him down, assuring him that no curiosity dealer wouldgive half as much, and my father so far yielded as to take 4 pounds, 10s. In silver, which, as I have already explained, would not be worth morethan half a sovereign in gold. At this figure a bargain was struck, andthe Professors paid up without offering him a single Musical Bank coin. They wanted to include the boots in the purchase, but here my fatherstood out. 

But he could not stand out as regards another matter, which caused himsome anxiety. Panky insisted that my father should give them a receiptfor the money, and there was an altercation between the Professors onthis point, much longer than I can here find space to give. Hanky arguedthat a receipt was useless, inasmuch as it would be ruin to my fatherever to refer to the subject again. Panky, however, was anxious, notlest my father should again claim the money, but (though he did not sayso outright) lest Hanky should claim the whole purchase as his own. Inso the end Panky, for a wonder, carried the day, and a receipt was drawnup to the effect that the undersigned acknowledged to have received fromProfessors Hanky and Panky the sum of 4 pounds, 10s. (I translate theamount), as joint purchasers of certain pieces of yellow ore, a blanket, and sundry articles found without an owner in the King's preserves. Thispaper was dated, as the permit had been, XIX. Xii. 29. 

My father, generally so ready, was at his wits' end for a name, and couldthink of none but Mr. Nosnibor's. Happily, remembering that thisgentleman had also been called Senoj--a name common enough in Erewhon--hesigned himself "Senoj, Under-ranger. "

Panky was now satisfied. "We will put it in the bag, " he said, "with thepieces of yellow ore. "

"Put it where you like, " said Hanky contemptuously; and into the bag itwas put. 

When all was now concluded, my father laughingly said, "If you have dealtunfairly by me, I forgive you. My motto is, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. '"

"Repeat those last words, " said Panky eagerly. My father was alarmed athis manner, but thought it safer to repeat them. 

"You hear that, Hanky? I am convinced; I have not another word to say. The man is a true Erewhonian; he has our corrupt reading of theSunchild's prayer. "

"Please explain. "

"Why, can you not see?" said Panky, who was by way of being great atconjectural emendations. "Can you not see how impossible it is for theSunchild, or any of the people to whom he declared (as we now knowprovisionally) that he belonged, could have made the forgiveness of hisown sins depend on the readiness with which he forgave other people? Noman in his senses would dream of such a thing. It would be asking asupposed all-powerful being not to forgive his sins at all, or at best toforgive them imperfectly. No; Yram got it wrong. She mistook 'but donot' for 'as we. ' The sound of the words is very much alike; the correctreading should obviously be, 'Forgive us our trespasses, but do notforgive them that trespass against us. ' This makes sense, and turns animpossible prayer into one that goes straight to the heart of every oneof us. " Then, turning to my father, he said, "You can see this, my man, can you not, as soon as it is pointed out to you?"

My father said that he saw it now, but had always heard the words as hehad himself spoken them. 

"Of course you have, my good fellow, and it is because of this that Iknow they never can have reached you except from an Erewhonian source. "

Hanky smiled, --snorted, and muttered in an undertone, "I shall begin tothink that this fellow is a foreign devil after all. "

"And now, gentlemen, " said my father, "the moon is risen. I must beafter the quails at daybreak; I will therefore go to the ranger'sshelter" (a shelter, by the way, which existed only in my father'sinvention), "and get a couple of hours' sleep, so as to be both close tothe quail-ground; and fresh for running. You are so near the boundary ofthe preserves that you will not want your permit further; no one willmeet you, and should any one do so, you need only give your names and saythat you have made a mistake. You will have to give it up to-morrow atthe Ranger's office; it will save you trouble if I collect it now, andgive it up when I deliver my quails. 

"As regards the curiosities, hide them as you best can outside thelimits. I recommend you to carry them at once out of the forest, andrest beyond the limits rather than here. You can then recover themwhenever, and in whatever way, you may find convenient. But I hope youwill say nothing about any foreign devil's having come over on to thisside. Any whisper to this effect unsettles people's minds, and they aretoo much unsettled already; hence our orders to kill any one from overthere at once, and to tell no one but the Head Ranger. I was forced byyou, gentlemen, to disobey these orders in self-defence; I must trustyour generosity to keep what I have told you secret. I shall, of course, report it to the Head Ranger. And now, if you think proper, you can giveme up your permit. "

All this was so plausible that the Professors gave up their permitwithout a word but thanks. They bundled their curiosities hurriedly into"the poor foreign devil's" blanket, reserving a more careful packing tillthey were out of the preserves. They wished my father a very good night, and all success with his quails in the morning; they thanked him againfor the care he had taken of them in the matter of the landrails, andPanky even went so far as to give him a few Musical Bank coins, which hegratefully accepted. They then started off in the direction ofSunch'ston. 

My father gathered up the remaining quails, some of which he meant to eatin the morning, while the others he would throw away as soon as he couldfind a safe place. He turned towards the mountains, but before he hadgone a dozen yards he heard a voice, which he recognised as Panky's, shouting after him, and saying--

"Mind you do not forget the true reading of the Sunchild's prayer. "

"You are an old fool, " shouted my father in English, knowing that hecould hardly be heard, still less understood, and thankful to relieve hisfeelings. 

CHAPTER V: MY FATHER MEETS A SON, OF WHOSE EXISTENCE HE WAS IGNORANT; ANDSTRIKES A BARGAIN WITH HIM

The incidents recorded in the two last chapters had occupied about twohours, so that it was nearly midnight before my father could begin toretrace his steps and make towards the camp that he had left thatmorning. This was necessary, for he could not go any further in acostume that he now knew to be forbidden. At this hour no ranger waslikely to meet him before he reached the statues, and by making a pushfor it he could return in time to cross the limits of the preservesbefore the Professors' permit had expired. If challenged, he must brazenit out that he was one or other of the persons therein named. 

Fatigued though he was, he reached the statues as near as he could guess, at about three in the morning. What little wind there had been was warm, so that the tracks, which the Professors must have seen shortly after hehad made them, had disappeared. The statues looked very weird in themoonlight but they were not chanting. 

While ascending, he pieced together the information he had picked up fromthe Professors. Plainly, the Sunchild, or child of the sun, was noneother than himself, and the new name of Coldharbour was doubtlessintended to commemorate the fact that this was the first town he hadreached in Erewhon. Plainly, also, he was supposed to be of superhumanorigin--his flight in the balloon having been not unnaturally believed tobe miraculous. The Erewhonians had for centuries been effacing allknowledge of their former culture; archaeologists, indeed, could stillglean a little from museums, and from volumes hard to come by, and stillharder to understand; but archaeologists were few, and even though theyhad made researches (which they may or may not have done), their labourshad never reached the masses. What wonder, then, that the mushroom spawnof myth, ever present in an atmosphere highly charged with ignorance, hadgerminated in a soil so favourably prepared for its reception?

He saw it all now. It was twenty years next Sunday since he and mymother had eloped. That was the meaning of XIX. Xii. 29. They had madea new era, dating from the day of his return to the palace of the sunwith a bride who was doubtless to unite the Erewhonian nature with thatof the sun. The New Year, then, would date from Sunday, December 7, which would therefore become XX. I. 1. The Thursday, now nearly if notquite over, being only two days distant from the end of a month of thirty-one days, which was also the last of the year, would be XIX. Xii. 29, ason the Professors' permit. 

I should like to explain here what will appear more clearly on a laterpage--I mean, that the Erewhonians, according to their new system, do notbelieve the sun to be a god except as regards this world and his otherplanets. My father had told them a little about astronomy, and hadassured them that all the fixed stars were suns like our own, withplanets revolving round them, which were probably tenanted by intelligentliving beings, however unlike they might be to ourselves. From this theyevolved the theory that the sun was the ruler of this planetary system, and that he must be personified, as they had personified the air-god, thegods of time and space, hope, justice, and the other deities mentioned inmy father's book. They retain their old belief in the actual existenceof these gods, but they now make them all subordinate to the sun. Thenearest approach they make to our own conception of God is to say that Heis the ruler over all the suns throughout the universe--the suns being toHim much as our planets and their denizens are to our own sun. They denythat He takes more interest in one sun and its system than in another. All the suns with their attendant planets are supposed to be equally Hischildren, and He deputes to each sun the supervision and protection ofits own system. Hence they say that though we may pray to the air-god, &c. , and even to the sun, we must not pray to God. We may be thankful toHim for watching over the suns, but we must not go further. 

Going back to my father's reflections, he perceived that the Erewhonianshad not only adopted our calendar, as he had repeatedly explained it tothe Nosnibors, but had taken our week as well, and were making Sunday ahigh day, just as we do. Next Sunday, in commemoration of the twentiethyear after his ascent, they were about to dedicate a temple to him; inthis there was to be a picture showing himself and his earthly bride ontheir heavenward journey, in a chariot drawn by four black and whitehorses--which, however, Professor Hanky had positively affirmed to havebeen only storks. 

Here I interrupted my father. "But were there, " I said, "any storks?"

"Yes, " he answered. "As soon as I heard Hanky's words I remembered thata flight of some four or five of the large storks so common in Erewhonduring the summer months had been wheeling high aloft in one of thoseaerial dances that so much delight them. I had quite forgotten it, butit came back to me at once that these creatures, attracted doubtless bywhat they took to be an unknown kind of bird, swooped down towards theballoon and circled round it like so many satellites to a heavenly body. I was fearful lest they should strike at it with their long andformidable beaks, in which case all would have been soon over; eitherthey were afraid, or they had satisfied their curiosity--at any rate, they let us alone; but they kept with us till we were well away from thecapital. Strange, how completely this incident had escaped me. "

I return to my father's thoughts as he made his way back to his old camp. 

As for the reversed position of Professor Panky's clothes, he rememberedhaving given his own old ones to the Queen, and having thought that shemight have got a better dummy on which to display them than the headlessscarecrow, which, however, he supposed was all her ladies-in-waitingcould lay their hands on at the moment. If that dummy had never beenreplaced, it was perhaps not very strange that the King could not at thefirst glance tell back from front, and if he did not guess right atfirst, there was little chance of his changing, for his first ideas wereapt to be his last. But he must find out more about this. 

Then how about the watch? Had their views about machinery also changed?Or was there an exception made about any machine that he had himselfcarried?

Yram too. She must have been married not long after she and he hadparted. So she was now wife to the Mayor, and was evidently able to havethings pretty much her own way in Sunch'ston, as he supposed he must nowcall it. Thank heaven she was prosperous! It was interesting to knowthat she was at heart a sceptic, as was also her light-haired son, nowHead Ranger. And that son? Just twenty years of age! Born seven monthsafter marriage! Then the Mayor doubtless had light hair too; but why didnot those wretches say in which month Yram was married? If she hadmarried soon after he had left, this was why he had not been sent for orwritten to. Pray heaven it was so. As for current gossip, people wouldtalk, and if the lad was well begotten, what could it matter to themwhose son he was? "But, " thought my father, "I am glad I did not meethim on my way down. I had rather have been killed by some one else. "

Hanky and Panky again. He remembered Bridgeford as the town where theColleges of Unreason had been most rife; he had visited it, but he hadforgotten that it was called "The city of the people who are abovesuspicion. " Its Professors were evidently going to muster in great forceon Sunday; if two of them had robbed him, he could forgive them, for theinformation he had gleaned from them had furnished him with a _pied aterre_. Moreover, he had got as much Erewhonian money as he should want, for he had resolved to retrace his steps immediately after seeing thetemple dedicated to himself. He knew the danger he should run inreturning over the preserves without a permit, but his curiosity was sogreat that he resolved to risk it. 

Soon after he had passed the statues he began to descend, and it beingnow broad day, he did so by leaps and bounds, for the ground was notprecipitous. He reached his old camp soon after five--this, at any rate, was the hour at which he set his watch on finding that it had run downduring his absence. There was now no reason why he should not take itwith him, so he put it in his pocket. The parrots had attacked hissaddle-bags, saddle, and bridle, as they were sure to do, but they hadnot got inside the bags. He took out his English clothes and put themon--stowing his bags of gold in various pockets, but keeping hisErewhonian money in the one that was most accessible. He put hisErewhonian dress back into the saddle-bags, intending to keep it as acuriosity; he also refreshed the dye upon his hands, face, and hair; helit himself a fire, made tea, cooked and ate two brace of quails, whichhe had plucked while walking so as to save time, and then flung himselfon to the ground to snatch an hour's very necessary rest. When he wokehe found he had slept two hours, not one, which was perhaps as well, andby eight he began to reascend the pass. 

He reached the statues about noon, for he allowed himself not a moment'srest. This time there was a stiffish wind, and they were chantinglustily. He passed them with all speed, and had nearly reached the placewhere he had caught the quails, when he saw a man in a dress which heguessed at once to be a ranger's, but which, strangely enough, seeingthat he was in the King's employ, was not reversed. My father's heartbeat fast; he got out his permit and held it open in his hand, then witha smiling face he went towards the Ranger, who was standing his ground. 

"I believe you are the Head Ranger, " said my father, who saw that he wasstill smooth-faced and had light hair. "I am Professor Panky, and hereis my permit. My brother Professor has been prevented from coming withme, and, as you see, I am alone. "

My father had professed to pass himself off as Panky, for he had rathergathered that Hanky was the better known man of the two. 

While the youth was scrutinising the permit, evidently with suspicion, myfather took stock of him, and saw his own past self in him tooplainly--knowing all he knew--to doubt whose son he was. He had thegreatest difficulty in hiding his emotion, for the lad was indeed one ofwhom any father might be proud. He longed to be able to embrace him andclaim him for what he was, but this, as he well knew, might not be. Thetears again welled into his eyes when he told me of the struggle withhimself that he had then had. 

"Don't be jealous, my dearest boy, " he said to me. "I love you quite asdearly as I love him, or better, but he was sprung upon me so suddenly, and dazzled me with his comely debonair face, so full of youth, andhealth, and frankness. Did you see him, he would go straight to yourheart, for he is wonderfully like you in spite of your taking so muchafter your poor mother. "

I was not jealous; on the contrary, I longed to see this youth, and findin him such a brother as I had often wished to have. But let me returnto my father's story. 

The young man, after examining the permit, declared it to be in form, andreturned it to my father, but he eyed him with polite disfavour. 

"I suppose, " he said, "you have come up, as so many are doing, fromBridgeford and all over the country, to the dedication on Sunday. "

"Yes, " said my father. "Bless me!" he added, "what a wind you have uphere! How it makes one's eyes water, to be sure;" but he spoke with acluck in his throat which no wind that blows can cause. 

"Have you met any suspicious characters between here and the statues?"asked the youth. "I came across the ashes of a fire lower down; therehad been three men sitting for some time round it, and they had all beeneating quails. Here are some of the bones and feathers, which I shallkeep. They had not been gone more than a couple of hours, for the asheswere still warm; they are getting bolder and bolder--who would havethought they would dare to light a fire? I suppose you have not met anyone; but if you have seen a single person, let me know. "

My father said quite truly that he had met no one. He then laughinglyasked how the youth had been able to discover as much as he had. 

"There were three well-marked forms, and three separate lots of quailbones hidden in the ashes. One man had done all the plucking. This isstrange, but I dare say I shall get at it later. "

After a little further conversation the Ranger said he was now going downto Sunch'ston, and, though somewhat curtly, proposed that he and myfather should walk together. 

"By all means, " answered my father. 

Before they had gone more than a few hundred yards his companion said, "If you will come with me a little to the left, I can show you the BluePool. "

To avoid the precipitous ground over which the stream here fell, they haddiverged to the right, where they had found a smoother descent; returningnow to the stream, which was about to enter on a level stretch for somedistance, they found themselves on the brink of a rocky basin, of nogreat size, but very blue, and evidently deep. 

"This, " said the Ranger, "is where our orders tell us to fling anyforeign devil who comes over from the other side. I have only been HeadRanger about nine months, and have not yet had to face this horrid duty;but, " and here he smiled, "when I first caught sight of you I thought Ishould have to make a beginning. I was very glad when I saw you had apermit. "

"And how many skeletons do you suppose are lying at the bottom of thispool?"

"I believe not more than seven or eight in all. There were three or fourabout eighteen years ago, and about the same number of late years; oneman was flung here only about three months before I was appointed. Ihave the full list, with dates, down in my office, but the rangers neverlet people in Sunch'ston know when they have Blue-Pooled any one; itwould unsettle men's minds, and some of them would be coming up here inthe dark to drag the pool, and see whether they could find anything onthe body. "

My father was glad to turn away from this most repulsive place. After atime he said, "And what do you good people hereabouts think of nextSunday's grand doings?"

Bearing in mind what he had gleaned from the Professors about theRanger's opinions, my father gave a slightly ironical turn to hispronunciation of the words "grand doings. " The youth glanced at him witha quick penetrative look, and laughed as he said, "The doings will begrand enough. "

"What a fine temple they have built, " said my father. "I have not yetseen the picture, but they say the four black and white horses aremagnificently painted. I saw the Sunchild ascend, but I saw no horses inthe sky, nor anything like horses. "

The youth was much interested. "Did you really see him ascend?" heasked; "and what, pray, do you think it all was?"

"Whatever it was, there were no horses. "

"But there must have been, for, as you of course know, they have latelyfound some droppings from one of them, which have been miraculouslypreserved, and they are going to show them next Sunday in a goldreliquary. "

"I know, " said my father, who, however, was learning the fact for thefirst time. "I have not yet seen this precious relic, but I think theymight have found something less unpleasant. "

"Perhaps they would if they could, " replied the youth, laughing, "butthere was nothing else that the horses could leave. It is only a numberof curiously rounded stones, and not at all like what they say it is. "

"Well, well, " continued my father, "but relic or no relic, there are manywho, while they fully recognise the value of the Sunchild's teaching, dislike these cock and bull stories as blasphemy against God's mostblessed gift of reason. There are many in Bridgeford who hate this storyof the horses. "

The youth was now quite reassured. "So there are here, sir, " he saidwarmly, "and who hate the Sunchild too. If there is such a hell as heused to talk about to my mother, we doubt not but that he will be castinto its deepest fires. See how he has turned us all upside down. Butwe dare not say what we think. There is no courage left in Erewhon. "

Then waxing calmer he said, "It is you Bridgeford people and your MusicalBanks that have done it all. The Musical Bank Managers saw that thepeople were falling away from them. Finding that the vulgar believedthis foreign devil Higgs--for he gave this name to my mother when he wasin prison--finding that--But you know all this as well as I do. How canyou Bridgeford Professors pretend to believe about these horses, andabout the Sunchild's being son to the sun, when all the time you knowthere is no truth in it?"

"My son--for considering the difference in our ages I may be allowed tocall you so--we at Bridgeford are much like you at Sunch'ston; we darenot always say what we think. Nor would it be wise to do so, when weshould not be listened to. This fire must burn itself out, for it hasgot such hold that nothing can either stay or turn it. Even though Higgshimself were to return and tell it from the house-tops that he was amortal--ay, and a very common one--he would be killed, but not believed. "

"Let him come; let him show himself, speak out and die, if the peoplechoose to kill him. In that case I would forgive him, accept him for myfather, as silly people sometimes say he is, and honour him to my dyingday. "

"Would that be a bargain?" said my father, smiling in spite of emotion sostrong that he could hardly bring the words out of his mouth. 

"Yes, it would, " said the youth doggedly. 

"Then let me shake hands with you on his behalf, and let us change theconversation. "

He took my father's hand, doubtfully and somewhat disdainfully, but hedid not refuse it. 

CHAPTER VI: FURTHER CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON--THE PROFESSORS'HOARD

It is one thing to desire a conversation to be changed, and another tochange it. After some little silence my father said, "And may I ask whatname your mother gave you?"

"My name, " he answered, laughing, "is George, and I wish it were someother, for it is the first name of that arch-impostor Higgs. I hate itas I hate the man who owned it. "

My father said nothing, but he hid his face in his hands. 

"Sir, " said the other, "I fear you are in some distress. "

"You remind me, " replied my father, "of a son who was stolen from me whenhe was a child. I searched for him, during many years, and at last fellin with him by accident, to find him all the heart of father could wish. But alas! he did not take kindly to me as I to him, and after two days heleft me; nor shall I ever again see him. "

"Then, sir, had I not better leave you?"

"No, stay with me till your road takes you elsewhere; for though I cannotsee my son, you are so like him that I could almost fancy he is with me. And now--for I shall show no more weakness--you say your mother knew theSunchild, as I am used to call him. Tell me what kind of a man she foundhim. "

"She liked him well enough in spite of his being a little silly. Shedoes not believe he ever called himself child of the sun. He used to sayhe had a father in heaven to whom he prayed, and who could hear him; buthe said that all of us, my mother as much as he, have this unseen father. My mother does not believe he meant doing us any harm, but only that hewanted to get himself and Mrs. Nosnibor's younger daughter out of thecountry. As for there having been anything supernatural about theballoon, she will have none of it; she says that it was some machinewhich he knew how to make, but which we have lost the art of making, aswe have of many another. 

"This is what she says amongst ourselves, but in public she confirms allthat the Musical Bank Managers say about him. She is afraid of them. Youknow, perhaps, that Professor Hanky, whose name I see on your permit, tried to burn her alive?"

"Thank heaven!" thought my father, "that I am Panky;" but aloud he said, "Oh, horrible! horrible! I cannot believe this even of Hanky. "

"He denies it, and we say we believe him; he was most kind and attentiveto my mother during all the rest of her stay in Bridgeford. He and sheparted excellent friends, but I know what she thinks. I shall be sure tosee him while he is in Sunch'ston, I shall have to be civil to him but itmakes me sick to think of it. "

"When shall you see him?" said my father, who was alarmed at learningthat Hanky and the Ranger were likely to meet. Who could tell but thathe might see Panky too?

"I have been away from home a fortnight, and shall not be back till lateon Saturday night. I do not suppose I shall see him before Sunday. "

"That will do, " thought my father, who at that moment deemed that nothingwould matter to him much when Sunday was over. Then, turning to theRanger, he said, "I gather, then, that your mother does not think sobadly of the Sunchild after all?"

"She laughs at him sometimes, but if any of us boys and girls say a wordagainst him we get snapped up directly. My mother turns every one roundher finger. Her word is law in Sunch'ston; every one obeys her; she hasfaced more than one mob, and quelled them when my father could not doso. "

"I can believe all you say of her. What other children has she besidesyourself?"

"We are four sons, of whom the youngest is now fourteen, and threedaughters. "

"May all health and happiness attend her and you, and all of you, henceforth and for ever, " and my father involuntarily bared his head ashe spoke. 

"Sir, " said the youth, impressed by the fervency of my father's manner, "I thank you, but you do not talk as Bridgeford Professors generally do, so far as I have seen or heard them. Why do you wish us all well so veryheartily? Is it because you think I am like your son, or is there someother reason?"

"It is not my son alone that you resemble, " said my father tremulously, for he knew he was going too far. He carried it off by adding, "Youresemble all who love truth and hate lies, as I do. "

"Then, sir, " said the youth gravely, "you much belie your reputation. Andnow I must leave you for another part of the preserves, where I think itlikely that last night's poachers may now be, and where I shall pass thenight in watching for them. You may want your permit for a few milesfurther, so I will not take it. Neither need you give it up atSunch'ston. It is dated, and will be useless after this evening. "

With this he strode off into the forest, bowing politely but somewhatcoldly, and without encouraging my father's half proffered hand. 

My father turned sad and unsatisfied away. 

"It serves me right, " he said to himself; "he ought never to have been myson; and yet, if such men can be brought by hook or by crook into theworld, surely the world should not ask questions about the bringing. Howcheerless everything looks now that he has left me. "

* * * * *

By this time it was three o'clock, and in another few minutes my fathercame upon the ashes of the fire beside which he and the Professors hadsupped on the preceding evening. It was only some eighteen hours sincethey had come upon him, and yet what an age it seemed! It was well theRanger had left him, for though my father, of course, would have knownnothing about either fire or poachers, it might have led to furtherfalsehood, and by this time he had become exhausted--not to say, for thetime being, sick of lies altogether. 

He trudged slowly on, without meeting a soul, until he came upon somestones that evidently marked the limits of the preserves. When he hadgot a mile or so beyond these, he struck a narrow and not much frequentedpath, which he was sure would lead him towards Sunch'ston, and soonafterwards, seeing a huge old chestnut tree some thirty or forty yardsfrom the path itself, he made towards it and flung himself on the groundbeneath its branches. There were abundant signs that he was nearing farmlands and homesteads, but there was no one about, and if any one saw himthere was nothing in his appearance to arouse suspicion. 

He determined, therefore, to rest here till hunger should wake him, anddrive him into Sunch'ston, which, however, he did not wish to reach tilldusk if he could help it. He meant to buy a valise and a few toilettenecessaries before the shops should close, and then engage a bedroom atthe least frequented inn he could find that looked fairly clean andcomfortable. 

He slept till nearly six, and on waking gathered his thoughts together. He could not shake his newly found son from out of them, but there was nogood in dwelling upon him now, and he turned his thoughts to theProfessors. How, he wondered, were they getting on, and what had theydone with the things they had bought from him?

"How delightful it would be, " he said to himself, "if I could find wherethey have hidden their hoard, and hide it somewhere else. "

He tried to project his mind into those of the Professors, as though theywere a team of straying bullocks whose probable action he must determinebefore he set out to look for them. 

On reflection, he concluded that the hidden property was not likely to befar from the spot on which he now was. The Professors would wait tillthey had got some way down towards Sunch'ston, so as to have readieraccess to their property when they wanted to remove it; but when theycame upon a path and other signs that inhabited dwellings could not befar distant, they would begin to look out for a hiding-place. And theywould take pretty well the first that came. "Why, bless my heart, " heexclaimed, "this tree is hollow; I wonder whether--" and on looking up hesaw an innocent little strip of the very tough fibrous leaf commonly usedwhile green as string, or even rope, by the Erewhonians. The plant thatmakes this leaf is so like the ubiquitous New Zealand _Phormium tenax_, or flax, as it is there called, that I shall speak of it as flax infuture, as indeed I have already done without explanation on an earlierpage; for this plant grows on both sides of the great range. The pieceof flax, then, which my father caught sight of was fastened, at no greatheight from the ground, round the branch of a strong sucker that hadgrown from the roots of the chestnut tree, and going thence for a coupleof feet or so towards the place where the parent tree became hollow, itdisappeared into the cavity below. My father had little difficulty inswarming the sucker till he reached the bough on to which the flax wastied, and soon found himself hauling up something from the bottom of thetree. In less time than it takes to tell the tale he saw his ownfamiliar red blanket begin to show above the broken edge of the hollow, and in another second there was a clinkum-clankum as the bundle fell uponthe ground. This was caused by the billy and the pannikin, which werewrapped inside the blanket. As for the blanket, it had been tied tightlyat both ends, as well as at several points between, and my fatherinwardly complimented the Professors on the neatness with which they hadpacked and hidden their purchase. "But, " he said to himself with alaugh, "I think one of them must have got on the other's back to reachthat bough. "

"Of course, " thought he, "they will have taken the nuggets with them. "And yet he had seemed to hear a dumping as well as a clinkum-clankum. Heundid the blanket, carefully untying every knot and keeping the flax. When he had unrolled it, he found to his very pleasurable surprise thatthe pannikin was inside the billy, and the nuggets with the receiptinside the pannikin. The paper containing the tea having been torn, waswrapped up in a handkerchief marked with Hanky's name. 

"Down, conscience, down!" he exclaimed as he transferred the nuggets, receipt, and handkerchief to his own pocket. "Eye of my soul that youare! if you offend me I must pluck you out. " His conscience feared himand said nothing. As for the tea, he left it in its torn paper. 

He then put the billy, pannikin, and tea, back again inside the blanket, which he tied neatly up, tie for tie with the Professor's own flax, leaving no sign of any disturbance. He again swarmed the sucker, till hereached the bough to which the blanket and its contents had been madefast, and having attached the bundle, he dropped it back into the hollowof the tree. He did everything quite leisurely, for the Professors wouldbe sure to wait till nightfall before coming to fetch their propertyaway. 

"If I take nothing but the nuggets, " he argued, "each of the Professorswill suspect the other of having conjured them into his own pocket whilethe bundle was being made up. As for the handkerchief, they must thinkwhat they like; but it will puzzle Hanky to know why Panky should havebeen so anxious for a receipt, if he meant stealing the nuggets. Letthem muddle it out their own way. "

Reflecting further, he concluded, perhaps rightly, that they had left thenuggets where he had found them, because neither could trust the othernot to filch a few, if he had them in his own possession, and they couldnot make a nice division without a pair of scales. "At any rate, " hesaid to himself, "there will be a pretty quarrel when they find themgone. "

Thus charitably did he brood over things that were not to happen. Thediscovery of the Professors' hoard had refreshed him almost as much ashis sleep had done, and it being now past seven, he lit his pipe--which, however, he smoked as furtively as he had done when he was a boy atschool, for he knew not whether smoking had yet become an Erewhonianvirtue or no--and walked briskly on towards Sunch'ston. 

CHAPTER VII: SIGNS OF THE NEW ORDER OF THINGS CATCH MY FATHER'S EYE ONEVERY SIDE

He had not gone far before a turn in the path--now rapidlywidening--showed him two high towers, seemingly some two miles off; thesehe felt sure must be at Sunch'ston, he therefore stepped out, lest heshould find the shops shut before he got there. 

On his former visit he had seen little of the town, for he was in prisonduring his whole stay. He had had a glimpse of it on being brought thereby the people of the village where he had spent his first night inErewhon--a village which he had seen at some little distance on his righthand, but which it would have been out of his way to visit, even if hehad wished to do so; and he had seen the Museum of old machines, but onleaving the prison he had been blindfolded. Nevertheless he felt surethat if the towers had been there he should have seen them, and rightlyguessed that they must belong to the temple which was to be dedicated tohimself on Sunday. 

When he had passed through the suburbs he found himself in the mainstreet. Space will not allow me to dwell on more than a few of thethings which caught his eye, and assured him that the change inErewhonian habits and opinions had been even more cataclysmic than he hadalready divined. The first important building that he came to proclaimeditself as the College of Spiritual Athletics, and in the window of a shopthat was evidently affiliated to the college he saw an announcement thatmoral try-your-strengths, suitable for every kind of ordinary temptation, would be provided on the shortest notice. Some of those that aimed atthe more common kinds of temptation were kept in stock, but theseconsisted chiefly of trials to the temper. On dropping, for example, apenny into a slot, you could have a jet of fine pepper, flour, orbrickdust, whichever you might prefer, thrown on to your face, and thusdiscover whether your composure stood in need of further development orno. My father gathered this from the writing that was pasted on to thetry-your-strength, but he had no time to go inside the shop and testeither the machine or his own temper. Other temptations to irritabilityrequired the agency of living people, or at any rate living beings. Crying children, screaming parrots, a spiteful monkey, might be hired onridiculously easy terms. He saw one advertisement, nicely framed, whichran as follows:-

 "Mrs. Tantrums, Nagger, certificated by the College of Spiritual Athletics. Terms for ordinary nagging, two shillings and sixpence per hour. Hysterics extra. "

Then followed a series of testimonials--for example:-

 "Dear Mrs. Tantrums, --I have for years been tortured with a husband of unusually peevish, irritable temper, who made my life so intolerable that I sometimes answered him in a way that led to his using personal violence towards me. After taking a course of twelve sittings from you, I found my husband's temper comparatively angelic, and we have ever since lived together in complete harmony. "

Another was from a husband:-

 "Mr. --- presents his compliments to Mrs. Tantrums, and begs to assure her that her extra special hysterics have so far surpassed anything his wife can do, as to render him callous to those attacks which he had formerly found so distressing. "

There were many others of a like purport, but time did not permit myfather to do more than glance at them. He contented himself with the twofollowing, of which the first ran:-

 "He did try it at last. A little correction of the right kind taken at the right moment is invaluable. No more swearing. No more bad language of any kind. A lamb-like temper ensured in about twenty minutes, by a single dose of one of our spiritual indigestion tabloids. In cases of all the more ordinary moral ailments, from simple lying, to homicidal mania, in cases again of tendency to hatred, malice, and uncharitableness; of atrophy or hypertrophy of the conscience, of costiveness or diarrhoea of the sympathetic instincts, &c. , &c. , our spiritual indigestion tabloids will afford unfailing and immediate relief. 

 "_N. B_. --A bottle or two of our Sunchild Cordial will assist the operation of the tabloids. "

The second and last that I can give was as follows:-

 "All else is useless. If you wish to be a social success, make yourself a good listener. There is no short cut to this. A would-be listener must learn the rudiments of his art and go through the mill like other people. If he would develop a power of suffering fools gladly, he must begin by suffering them without the gladness. Professor Proser, ex-straightener, certificated bore, pragmatic or coruscating, with or without anecdotes, attends pupils at their own houses. Terms moderate. 

 "Mrs. Proser, whose success as a professional mind-dresser is so well- known that lengthened advertisement is unnecessary, prepares ladies or gentlemen with appropriate remarks to be made at dinner-parties or at- homes. Mrs. P. Keeps herself well up to date with all the latest scandals. "

"Poor, poor, straighteners!" said my father to himself. "Alas! that itshould have been my fate to ruin you--for I suppose your occupation isgone. "

Tearing himself away from the College of Spiritual Athletics and itsaffiliated shop, he passed on a few doors, only to find himself lookingin at what was neither more nor less than a chemist's shop. In thewindow there were advertisements which showed that the practice ofmedicine was now legal, but my father could not stay to copy a single oneof the fantastic announcements that a hurried glance revealed to him. 

It was also plain here, as from the shop already more fully described, that the edicts against machines had been repealed, for there werephysical try-your-strengths, as in the other shop there had been moralones, and such machines under the old law would not have been toleratedfor a moment. 

My father made his purchases just as the last shops were closing. Henoticed that almost all of them were full of articles labelled"Dedication. " There was Dedication gingerbread, stamped with a mouldedrepresentation of the new temple; there were Dedication syrups, Dedication pocket-handkerchiefs, also shewing the temple, and in onecorner giving a highly idealised portrait of my father himself. Thechariot and the horses figured largely, and in the confectioners' shopsthere were models of the newly discovered relic--made, so my fatherthought, with a little heap of cherries or strawberries, smothered inchocolate. Outside one tailor's shop he saw a flaring advertisementwhich can only be translated, "Try our Dedication trousers, price tenshillings and sixpence. "

Presently he passed the new temple, but it was too dark for him to domore than see that it was a vast fane, and must have cost an untoldamount of money. At every turn he found himself more and more shocked, as he realised more and more fully the mischief he had alreadyoccasioned, and the certainty that this was small as compared with thatwhich would grow up hereafter. 

"What, " he said to me, very coherently and quietly, "was I to do? I hadstruck a bargain with that dear fellow, though he knew not what I meant, to the effect that I should try to undo the harm I had done, by standingup before the people on Sunday and saying who I was. True, they wouldnot believe me. They would look at my hair and see it black, whereas itshould be very light. On this they would look no further, but verylikely tear me in pieces then and there. Suppose that the authoritiesheld a _post-mortem_ examination, and that many who knew me (let alonethat all my measurements and marks were recorded twenty years ago)identified the body as mine: would those in power admit that I was theSunchild? Not they. The interests vested in my being now in the palaceof the sun are too great to allow of my having been torn to pieces inSunch'ston, no matter how truly I had been torn; the whole thing would behushed up, and the utmost that could come of it would be a heresy whichwould in time be crushed. 

"On the other hand, what business have I with 'would be' or 'would notbe?' Should I not speak out, come what may, when I see a whole peoplebeing led astray by those who are merely exploiting them for their ownends? Though I could do but little, ought I not to do that little? Whatdid that good fellow's instinct--so straight from heaven, so true, sohealthy--tell him? What did my own instinct answer? What would theconscience of any honourable man answer? Who can doubt?

"And yet, is there not reason? and is it not God-given as much asinstinct? I remember having heard an anthem in my young days, 'O whereshall wisdom be found? the deep saith it is not in me. ' As the singerskept on repeating the question, I kept on saying sorrowfully tomyself--'Ah, where, where, where?' and when the triumphant answer came, 'The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to depart from evil isunderstanding, ' I shrunk ashamed into myself for not having foreseen it. In later life, when I have tried to use this answer as a light by which Icould walk, I found it served but to the raising of another question, 'What is the fear of the Lord, and what is evil in this particular case?'And my easy method with spiritual dilemmas proved to be but a case of_ignotum per ignotius_. 

"If Satan himself is at times transformed into an angel of light, are notangels of light sometimes transformed into the likeness of Satan? If thedevil is not so black as he is painted, is God always so white? And isthere not another place in which it is said, 'The fear of the Lord is thebeginning of wisdom, ' as though it were not the last word upon thesubject? If a man should not do evil that good may come, so neithershould he do good that evil may come; and though it were good for me tospeak out, should I not do better by refraining?

"Such were the lawless and uncertain thoughts that tortured me verycruelly, so that I did what I had not done for many a long year--I prayedfor guidance. 'Shew me Thy will, O Lord, ' I cried in great distress, 'and strengthen me to do it when Thou hast shewn it me. ' But there wasno answer. Instinct tore me one way and reason another. Whereon Isettled that I would obey the reason with which God had endowed me, unless the instinct He had also given me should thrash it out of me. Icould get no further than this, that the Lord hath mercy on whom He willhave mercy, and whom He willeth He hardeneth; and again I prayed that Imight be among those on whom He would shew His mercy. 

"This was the strongest internal conflict that I ever remember to havefelt, and it was at the end of it that I perceived the first, but as yetvery faint, symptoms of that sickness from which I shall not recover. Whether this be a token of mercy or no, my Father which is in heavenknows, but I know not. "

From what my father afterwards told me, I do not think the abovereflections had engrossed him for more than three or four minutes; thegiddiness which had for some seconds compelled him to lay hold of thefirst thing he could catch at in order to avoid falling, passed awaywithout leaving a trace behind it, and his path seemed to becomecomfortably clear before him. He settled it that the proper thing to dowould be to buy some food, start back at once while his permit was stillvalid, help himself to the property which he had sold the Professors, leaving the Erewhonians to wrestle as they best might with the lot thatit had pleased Heaven to send them. 

This, however, was too heroic a course. He was tired, and wanted anight's rest in a bed; he was hungry, and wanted a substantial meal; hewas curious, moreover, to see the temple dedicated to himself, and hearHanky's sermon; there was also this further difficulty, he should have totake what he had sold the Professors without returning them their 4pounds, 10s. , for he could not do without his blanket, &c. ; and even ifhe left a bag of nuggets made fast to the sucker, he must either place itwhere it could be seen so easily that it would very likely get stolen, orhide it so cleverly that the Professors would never find it. Hetherefore compromised by concluding that he would sup and sleep inSunch'ston, get through the morrow as he best could without attractingattention, deepen the stain on his face and hair, and rely on the changeso made in his appearance to prevent his being recognised at thededication of the temple. He would do nothing to disillusion thepeople--to do this would only be making bad worse. As soon as theservice was over, he would set out towards the preserves, and, when itwas well dark, make for the statues. He hoped that on such a great daythe rangers might be many of them in Sunch'ston; if there were any about, he must trust the moonless night and his own quick eyes and ears to gethim through the preserves safely. 

The shops were by this time closed, but the keepers of a few stalls weretrying by lamplight to sell the wares they had not yet got rid of. Oneof these was a bookstall, and, running his eye over some of the volumes, my father saw one entitled--

 "The Sayings of the Sunchild during his stay in Erewhon, to which is added a true account of his return to the palace of the sun with his Erewhonian bride. This is the only version authorised by the Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the Musical Banks; all other versions being imperfect and inaccurate. --Bridgeford, XVIII. , 150 pp. 8vo. Price 3s. 

The reader will understand that I am giving the prices as nearly as I canin their English equivalents. Another title was--

 "The Sacrament of Divorce: an Occasional Sermon preached by Dr. Gurgoyle, President of the Musical Banks for the Province of Sunch'ston. 8vo, 16 pp. 6d. 

Other titles ran--

 "Counsels of Imperfection. " 8vo, 20 pp. 6d. 

 "Hygiene; or, How to Diagnose your Doctor. 8vo, 10 pp. 3d. 

 "The Physics of Vicarious Existence, " by Dr. Gurgoyle, President of the Musical Banks for the Province of Sunch'ston. 8vo, 20 pp. 6d. 

There were many other books whose titles would probably have attracted myfather as much as those that I have given, but he was too tired andhungry to look at more. Finding that he could buy all the foregoing for4s. 9d. , he bought them and stuffed them into the valise that he had justbought. His purchases in all had now amounted to a little over 1 pound, 10s. (silver), leaving him about 3 pounds (silver), including the moneyfor which he had sold the quails, to carry him on till Sunday afternoon. He intended to spend say 2 pounds (silver), and keep the rest of themoney in order to give it to the British Museum. 

He now began to search for an inn, and walked about the less fashionableparts of the town till he found an unpretending tavern, which he thoughtwould suit him. Here, on importunity, he was given a servant's room atthe top of the house, all others being engaged by visitors who had comefor the dedication. He ordered a meal, of which he stood in great need, and having eaten it, he retired early for the night. But he smoked apipe surreptitiously up the chimney before he got into bed. 

Meanwhile other things were happening, of which, happily for his repose, he was still ignorant, and which he did not learn till a few days later. Not to depart from chronological order I will deal with them in my nextchapter. 

CHAPTER VIII: YRAM, NOW MAYORESS, GIVES A DINNER-PARTY, IN THE COURSE OFWHICH SHE IS DISQUIETED BY WHAT SHE LEARNS FROM PROFESSOR HANKY: SHESENDS FOR HER SON GEORGE AND QUESTIONS HIM

The Professors, returning to their hotel early on the Friday morning, found a note from the Mayoress urging them to be her guests during theremainder of their visit, and to meet other friends at dinner on thissame evening. They accepted, and then went to bed; for they had passedthe night under the tree in which they had hidden their purchase, and, asmay be imagined, had slept but little. They rested all day, andtransferred themselves and their belongings to the Mayor's house in timeto dress for dinner. 

When they came down into the drawing-room they found a brilliant companyassembled, chiefly Musical-Bankical like themselves. There was Dr. Downie, Professor of Logomachy, and perhaps the most subtle dialecticianin Erewhon. He could say nothing in more words than any man of hisgeneration. His text-book on the "Art of Obscuring Issues" had passedthrough ten or twelve editions, and was in the hands of all aspirants foracademic distinction. He had earned a high reputation for sobriety ofjudgement by resolutely refusing to have definite views on any subject;so safe a man was he considered, that while still quite young he had beenappointed to the lucrative post of Thinker in Ordinary to the RoyalFamily. There was Mr. Principal Crank, with his sister Mrs. Quack;Professors Gabb and Bawl, with their wives and two or three eruditedaughters. 

Old Mrs. Humdrum (of whom more anon) was there of course, with hervenerable white hair and rich black satin dress, looking the very idealof all that a stately old dowager ought to be. In society she wascommonly known as Ydgrun, so perfectly did she correspond with theconception of this strange goddess formed by the Erewhonians. She wasone of those who had visited my father when he was in prison twenty yearsearlier. When he told me that she was now called Ydgrun, he said, "I amsure that the Erinyes were only Mrs. Humdrums, and that they weredelightful people when you came to know them. I do not believe they didthe awful things we say they did. I think, but am not quite sure, thatthey let Orestes off; but even though they had not pardoned him, I doubtwhether they would have done anything more dreadful to him than issue a_mot d'ordre_ that he was not to be asked to any more afternoon teas. This, however, would be down-right torture to some people. At any rate, "he continued, "be it the Erinyes, or Mrs. Grundy, or Ydgrun, in all timesand places it is woman who decides whether society is to condone anoffence or no. "

Among the most attractive ladies present was one for whose Erewhonianname I can find no English equivalent, and whom I must therefore callMiss La Frime. She was Lady President of the principal establishment forthe higher education of young ladies, and so celebrated was she, thatpupils flocked to her from all parts of the surrounding country. Herprimer (written for the Erewhonian Arts and Science Series) on the Art ofMan-killing, was the most complete thing of the kind that had yet beendone; but ill-natured people had been heard to say that she had killedall her own admirers so effectually that not one of them had ever livedto marry her. According to Erewhonian custom the successful marriages ofthe pupils are inscribed yearly on the oak paneling of the collegerefectory, and a reprint from these in pamphlet form accompanies all theprospectuses that are sent out to parents. It was alleged that no otherladies' seminary in Erewhon could show such a brilliant record during allthe years of Miss La Frime's presidency. Many other guests of less notewere there, but the lions of the evening were the two Professors whom wehave already met with, and more particularly Hanky, who took the Mayoressin to dinner. Panky, of course, wore his clothes reversed, as didPrincipal Crank and Professor Gabb; the others were dressed Englishfashion. 

Everything hung upon the hostess, for the host was little more than astill handsome figure-head. He had been remarkable for his good looks asa young man, and Strong is the nearest approach I can get to atranslation of his Erewhonian name. His face inspired confidence atonce, but he was a man of few words, and had little of that grace whichin his wife set every one instantly at his or her ease. He knew that allwould go well so long as he left everything to her, and kept himself asfar as might be in the background. 

Before dinner was announced there was the usual buzz of conversation, chiefly occupied with salutations, good wishes for Sunday's weather, andadmiration for the extreme beauty of the Mayoress's three daughters, thetwo elder of whom were already out; while the third, though onlythirteen, might have passed for a year or two older. Their mother was somuch engrossed with receiving her guests that it was not till they wereall at table that she was able to ask Hanky what he thought of thestatues, which she had heard that he and Professor Panky had been to see. She was told how much interested he had been with them, and how unable hehad been to form any theory as to their date or object. He then added, appealing to Panky, who was on the Mayoress's left hand, "but we hadrather a strange adventure on our way down, had we not, Panky? We gotlost, and were benighted in the forest. Happily we fell in with one ofthe rangers who had lit a fire. "

"Do I understand, then, " said Yram, as I suppose we may as well call her, "that you were out all last night? How tired you must be! But I hopeyou had enough provisions with you?"

"Indeed we were out all night. We staid by the ranger's fire tillmidnight, and then tried to find our way down, but we gave it up soonafter we had got out of the forest, and then waited under a largechestnut tree till four or five this morning. As for food, we had not somuch as a mouthful from about three in the afternoon till we got to ourinn early this morning. "

"Oh, you poor, poor people! how tired you must be. "

"No; we made a good breakfast as soon as we got in, and then went to bed, where we staid till it was time for us to come to your house. "

Here Panky gave his friend a significant look, as much as to say that hehad said enough. 

This set Hanky on at once. "Strange to say, the ranger was wearing theold Erewhonian dress. It did me good to see it again after all theseyears. It seems your son lets his men wear what few of the old clothesthey may still have, so long as they keep well away from the town. Butfancy how carefully these poor fellows husband them; why, it must beseventeen years since the dress was forbidden!"

We all of us have skeletons, large or small, in some cupboard of ourlives, but a well regulated skeleton that will stay in its cupboardquietly does not much matter. There are skeletons, however, which cannever be quite trusted not to open the cupboard door at some awkwardmoment, go down stairs, ring the hall-door bell, with grinning faceannounce themselves as the skeleton, and ask whether the master ormistress is at home. This kind of skeleton, though no bigger than arabbit, will sometimes loom large as that of a dinotherium. My fatherwas Yram's skeleton. True, he was a mere skeleton of a skeleton, for thechances were thousands to one that he and my mother had perished longyears ago; and even though he rang at the bell, there was no harm that heeither could or would now do to her or hers; still, so long as she didnot certainly know that he was dead, or otherwise precluded fromreturning, she could not be sure that he would not one day come back bythe way that he would alone know, and she had rather he should not do so. 

Hence, on hearing from Professor Hanky that a man had been seen betweenthe statues and Sunch'ston wearing the old Erewhonian dress, she wasdisquieted and perplexed. The excuse he had evidently made to theProfessors aggravated her uneasiness, for it was an obvious attempt toescape from an unexpected difficulty. There could be no truth in it. Herson would as soon think of wearing the old dress himself as of lettinghis men do so; and as for having old clothes still to wear out afterseventeen years, no one but a Bridgeford Professor would accept this. Shesaw, therefore, that she must keep her wits about her, and lead herguests on to tell her as much as they could be induced to do. 

"My son, " she said innocently, "is always considerate to his men, andthat is why they are so devoted to him. I wonder which of them it was?In what part of the preserves did you fall in with him?"

Hanky described the place, and gave the best idea he could of my father'sappearance. 

"Of course he was swarthy like the rest of us?"

"I saw nothing remarkable about him, except that his eyes were blue andhis eyelashes nearly white, which, as you know, is rare in Erewhon. Indeed, I do not remember ever before to have seen a man with dark hairand complexion but light eyelashes. Nature is always doing somethingunusual. "

"I have no doubt, " said Yram, "that he was the man they call Blacksheep, but I never noticed this peculiarity in him. If he was Blacksheep, I amafraid you must have found him none too civil; he is a rough diamond, andyou would hardly be able to understand his uncouth Sunch'ston dialect. "

"On the contrary, he was most kind and thoughtful--even so far as to takeour permit from us, and thus save us the trouble of giving it up at yourson's office. As for his dialect, his grammar was often at fault, but wecould quite understand him. "

"I am glad to hear he behaved better than I could have expected. Did hesay in what part of the preserves he had been?"

"He had been catching quails between the place where we saw him and thestatues; he was to deliver three dozen to your son this afternoon for theMayor's banquet on Sunday. "

This was worse and worse. She had urged her son to provide her with asupply of quails for Sunday's banquet, but he had begged her not toinsist on having them. There was no close time for them in Erewhon, buthe set his face against their being seen at table in spring and summer. During the winter, when any great occasion arose, he had allowed a fewbrace to be provided. 

"I asked my son to let me have some, " said Yram, who was now on fullscent. She laughed genially as she added, "Can you throw any light uponthe question whether I am likely to get my three dozen? I have had nonews as yet. "

"The man had taken a good many; we saw them but did not count them. Hestarted about midnight for the ranger's shelter, where he said he shouldsleep till daybreak, so as to make up his full tale betimes. "

Yram had heard her son complain that there were no shelters on thepreserves, and state his intention of having some built before thewinter. Here too, then, the man's story must be false. She changed theconversation for the moment, but quietly told a servant to send high andlow in search of her son, and if he could be found, to bid him come toher at once. She then returned to her previous subject. 

"And did not this heartless wretch, knowing how hungry you must both be, let you have a quail or two as an act of pardonable charity?"

"My dear Mayoress, how can you ask such a question? We knew you wouldwant all you could get; moreover, our permit threatened us with all sortsof horrors if we so much as ate a single quail. I assure you we nevereven allowed a thought of eating one of them to cross our minds. "

"Then, " said Yram to herself, "they gorged upon them. " What could shethink? A man who wore the old dress, and therefore who had almostcertainly been in Erewhon, but had been many years away from it; whospoke the language well, but whose grammar was defective--hence, again, one who had spent some time in Erewhon; who knew nothing of theafforesting law now long since enacted, for how else would he have daredto light a fire and be seen with quails in his possession; an adroitliar, who on gleaning information from the Professors had hazarded anexcuse for immediately retracing his steps; a man, too, with blue eyesand light eyelashes. What did it matter about his hair being dark andhis complexion swarthy--Higgs was far too clever to attempt a secondvisit to Erewhon without dyeing his hair and staining his face and hands. And he had got their permit out of the Professors before he left them;clearly, then, he meant coming back, and coming back at once before thepermit had expired. How could she doubt? My father, she felt sure, mustby this time be in Sunch'ston. He would go back to change his clothes, which would not be very far down on the other side the pass, for he wouldnot put on his old Erewhonian dress till he was on the point of enteringErewhon; and he would hide his English dress rather than throw it away, for he would want it when he went back again. It would be quitepossible, then, for him to get through the forest before the permit wasvoid, and he would be sure to go on to Sunch'ston for the night. 

She chatted unconcernedly, now with one guest now with another, whilethey in their turn chatted unconcernedly with one another. 

Miss La Frime to Mrs. Humdrum: "You know how he got his professorship?No? I thought every one knew that. The question the candidates had toanswer was, whether it was wiser during a long stay at a hotel to tip theservants pretty early, or to wait till the stay was ended. All the othercandidates took one side or the other, and argued their case in full. Hanky sent in three lines to the effect that the proper thing to do wouldbe to promise at the beginning, and go away without giving. The King, with whom the appointment rested, was so much pleased with this answerthat he gave Hanky the professorship without so much as looking . . . "

Professor Gabb to Mrs. Humdrum: "Oh no, I can assure you there is notruth in it. What happened was this. There was the usual crowd, and thepeople cheered Professor after Professor, as he stood before them in thegreat Bridgeford theatre and satisfied them that a lump of butter whichhad been put into his mouth would not melt in it. When Hanky's turn camehe was taken suddenly unwell, and had to leave the theatre, on whichthere was a report in the house that the butter had melted; this was atonce stopped by the return of the Professor. Another piece of butter wasput into his mouth, and on being taken out after the usual time, wasfound to shew no signs of having . . . "

Miss Bawl to Mr. Principal Crank: . . . "The Manager was so tall, youknow, and then there was that little mite of an assistant manager--it_was_ so funny. For the assistant manager's voice was ever so muchlouder than the . . . "

Mrs. Bawl to Professor Gabb: . . . "Live for art! If I had to choosewhether I would lose either art or science, I have not the smallesthesitation in saying that I would lose . . . "

The Mayor and Dr. Downie: . . . "That you are to be canonised at theclose of the year along with Professors Hanky and Panky?"

"I believe it is his Majesty's intention that the Professors and myselfare to head the list of the Sunchild's Saints, but we have all of us gotto . . . "

And so on, and so on, buzz, buzz, buzz, over the whole table. PresentlyYram turned to Hanky and said--

"By the way, Professor, you must have found it very cold up at thestatues, did you not? But I suppose the snow is all gone by this time?"

"Yes, it was cold, and though the winter's snow is melted, there had beena recent fall. Strange to say, we saw fresh footprints in it, as of someone who had come up from the other side. But thereon hangs a tale, aboutwhich I believe I should say nothing. "

"Then say nothing, my dear Professor, " said Yram with a frank smile. "Above all, " she added quietly and gravely, "say nothing to the Mayor, nor to my son, till after Sunday. Even a whisper of some one coming overfrom the other side disquiets them, and they have enough on hand for themoment. "

Panky, who had been growing more and more restive at his friend'soutspokenness, but who had encouraged it more than once by vainly tryingto check it, was relieved at hearing his hostess do for him what he couldnot do for himself. As for Yram, she had got enough out of the Professorto be now fully dissatisfied, and mentally informed them that they mightleave the witness-box. During the rest of dinner she let the subject oftheir adventure severely alone. 

It seemed to her as though dinner was never going to end; but in thecourse of time it did so, and presently the ladies withdrew. As theywere entering the drawing-room a servant told her that her son had beenfound more easily than was expected, and was now in his own roomdressing. 

"Tell him, " she said, "to stay there till I come, which I will dodirectly. "

She remained for a few minutes with her guests, and then, excusingherself quietly to Mrs. Humdrum, she stepped out and hastened to herson's room. She told him that Professors Hanky and Panky were staying inthe house, and that during dinner they had told her something he ought toknow, but which there was no time to tell him until her guests were gone. "I had rather, " she said, "tell you about it before you see theProfessors, for if you see them the whole thing will be reopened, and youare sure to let them see how much more there is in it than they suspect. I want everything hushed up for the moment; do not, therefore, join us. Have dinner sent to you in your father's study. I will come to you aboutmidnight. "

"But, my dear mother, " said George, "I have seen Panky already. I walkeddown with him a good long way this afternoon. "

Yram had not expected this, but she kept her countenance. "How did youknow, " said she, "that he was Professor Panky? Did he tell you so?"

"Certainly he did. He showed me his permit, which was made out in favourof Professors Hanky and Panky, or either of them. He said Hanky had beenunable to come with him, and that he was himself Professor Panky. "

Yram again smiled very sweetly. "Then, my dear boy, " she said, "I am allthe more anxious that you should not see him now. See nobody but theservants and your brothers, and wait till I can enlighten you. I mustnot stay another moment; but tell me this much, have you seen any signsof poachers lately?"

"Yes; there were three last night. "

"In what part of the preserves?"

Her son described the place. 

"You are sure they had been killing quails?"

"Yes, and eating them--two on one side of a fire they had lit, and one onthe other; this last man had done all the plucking. "

"Good!"

She kissed him with more than even her usual tenderness, and returned tothe drawing-room. 

During the rest of the evening she was engaged in earnest conversationwith Mrs. Humdrum, leaving her other guests to her daughters and tothemselves. Mrs. Humdrum had been her closest friend for many years, andcarried more weight than any one else in Sunch'ston, except, perhaps, Yram herself. "Tell him everything, " she said to Yram at the close oftheir conversation; "we all dote upon him; trust him frankly, as youtrusted your husband before you let him marry you. No lies, no reserve, no tears, and all will come right. As for me, command me, " and the goodold lady rose to take her leave with as kind a look on her face as everirradiated saint or angel. "I go early, " she added, "for the others willgo when they see me do so, and the sooner you are alone the better. "

By half an hour before midnight her guests had gone. Hanky and Pankywere given to understand that they must still be tired, and had better goto bed. So was the Mayor; so were her sons and daughters, except ofcourse George, who was waiting for her with some anxiety, for he had seenthat she had something serious to tell him. Then she went down into thestudy. Her son embraced her as she entered, and moved an easy chair forher, but she would not have it. 

"No; I will have an upright one. " Then, sitting composedly down on theone her son placed for her, she said--

"And now to business. But let me first tell you that the Mayor was told, twenty years ago, all the more important part of what you will now hear. He does not yet know what has happened within the last few hours, buteither you or I will tell him to-morrow. "

CHAPTER IX: INTERVIEW BETWEEN YRAM AND HER SON

"What did you think of Panky?"

"I could not make him out. If he had not been a Bridgeford Professor Imight have liked him; but you know how we all of us distrust thosepeople. "

"Where did you meet him?"

"About two hours lower down than the statues. "

"At what o'clock?"

"It might be between two and half-past. "

"I suppose he did not say that at that hour he was in bed at his hotel inSunch'ston. Hardly! Tell me what passed between you. "

"He had his permit open before we were within speaking distance. I thinkhe feared I should attack him without making sure whether he was aforeign devil or no. I have told you he said he was Professor Panky. "

"I suppose he had a dark complexion and black hair like the rest of us?"

"Dark complexion and hair purplish rather than black. I was surprised tosee that his eyelashes were as light as my own, and his eyes were bluelike mine--but you will have noticed this at dinner. "

"No, my dear, I did not, and I think I should have done so if it had beenthere to notice. "

"Oh, but it was so indeed. "

"Perhaps. Was there anything strange about his way of talking?"

"A little about his grammar, but these Bridgeford Professors have oftenrisen from the ranks. His pronunciation was nearly like yours and mine. "

"Was his manner friendly?"

"Very; more so than I could understand at first. I had not, however, been with him long before I saw tears in his eyes, and when I asked himwhether he was in distress, he said I reminded him of a son whom he hadlost and had found after many years, only to lose him almost immediatelyfor ever. Hence his cordiality towards me. "

"Then, " said Yram half hysterically to herself, "he knew who you were. Now, how, I wonder, did he find that out?" All vestige of doubt as towho the man might be had now left her. 

"Certainly he knew who I was. He spoke about you more than once, andwished us every kind of prosperity, baring his head reverently as hespoke. "

"Poor fellow! Did he say anything about Higgs?"

"A good deal, and I was surprised to find he thought about it all much aswe do. But when I said that if I could go down into the hell of whichHiggs used to talk to you while he was in prison, I should expect to findhim in its hottest fires, he did not like it. "

"Possibly not, my dear. Did you tell him how the other boys, when youwere at school, used sometimes to say you were son to this man Higgs, andthat the people of Sunch'ston used to say so also, till the Mayortrounced two or three people so roundly that they held their tongues forthe future?"

"Not all that, but I said that silly people had believed me to be theSunchild's son, and what a disgrace I should hold it to be son to such animpostor. "

"What did he say to this?"

"He asked whether I should feel the disgrace less if Higgs were to undothe mischief he had caused by coming back and shewing himself to thepeople for what he was. But he said it would be no use for him to do so, inasmuch as people would kill him but would not believe him. "

"And you said?"

"Let him come back, speak out, and chance what might befall him. In thatcase, I should honour him, father or no father. "

"And he?"

"He asked if that would be a bargain; and when I said it would, hegrasped me warmly by the hand on Higgs's behalf--though what it couldmatter to him passes my comprehension. "

"But he saw that even though Higgs were to shew himself and say who hewas, it would mean death to himself and no good to any one else?"

"Perfectly. "

"Then he can have meant nothing by shaking hands with you. It was anidle jest. And now for your poachers. You do not know who they were? Iwill tell you. The two who sat on the one side the fire were ProfessorsHanky and Panky from the City of the People who are above Suspicion. "

"No, " said George vehemently. "Impossible. "

"Yes, my dear boy, quite possible, and whether possible or impossible, assuredly true. "

"And the third man?"

"The third man was dressed in the old costume. He was in possession ofseveral brace of birds. The Professors vowed they had not eaten any--"

"Oh yes, but they had, " blurted out George. 

"Of course they had, my dear; and a good thing too. Let us return to theman in the old costume. "

"That is puzzling. Who did he say he was?"

"He said he was one of your men; that you had instructed him to provideyou with three dozen quails for Sunday; and that you let your men wearthe old costume if they had any of it left, provided--"

This was too much for George; he started to his feet. "What, my dearestmother, does all this mean? You have been playing with me all through. What is coming?"

"A very little more, and you shall hear. This man staid with theProfessors till nearly midnight, and then left them on the plea that hewould finish the night in the Ranger's shelter--"

"Ranger's shelter, indeed! Why--"

"Hush, my darling boy, be patient with me. He said he must be upbetimes, to run down the rest of the quails you had ordered him to bringyou. But before leaving the Professors he beguiled them into giving himup their permit. "

"Then, " said George, striding about the room with his face flushed andhis eyes flashing, "he was the man with whom I walked down thisafternoon. "

"Exactly so. "

"And he must have changed his dress?"

"Exactly so. "

"But where and how?"

"At some place not very far down on the other side the range, where hehad hidden his old clothes. "

"And who, in the name of all that we hold most sacred, do you take him tohave been--for I see you know more than you have yet told me?"

"My son, he was Higgs the Sunchild, father to that boy whom I love nextto my husband more dearly than any one in the whole world. "

She folded her arms about him for a second, without kissing him, and lefthim. "And now, " she said, the moment she had closed the door--"and now Imay cry. "

* * * * *

She did not cry for long, and having removed all trace of tears as far asmight be, she returned to her son outwardly composed and cheerful. "ShallI say more now, " she said, seeing how grave he looked, "or shall I leaveyou, and talk further with you to-morrow?"

"Now--now--now!"

"Good! A little before Higgs came here, the Mayor, as he now is, poor, handsome, generous to a fault so far as he had the wherewithal, wasadored by all the women of his own rank in Sunch'ston. Report said thathe had adored many of them in return, but after having known me for avery few days, he asked me to marry him, protesting that he was a changedman. I liked him, as every one else did, but I was not in love with him, and said so; he said he would give me as much time as I chose, if I wouldnot point-blank refuse him; and so the matter was left. 

"Within a week or so Higgs was brought to the prison, and he had not beenthere long before I found, or thought I found, that I liked him betterthan I liked Strong. I was a fool--but there! As for Higgs, he liked, but did not love me. If I had let him alone he would have done the likeby me; and let each other alone we did, till the day before he was takendown to the capital. On that day, whether through his fault or mine Iknow not--we neither of us meant it--it was as though Nature, my dear, was determined that you should not slip through her fingers--well, onthat day we took it into our heads that we were broken-hearted lovers--therest followed. And how, my dearest boy, as I look upon you, can I feignrepentance?

"My husband, who never saw Higgs, and knew nothing about him except thetoo little that I told him, pressed his suit, and about a month afterHiggs had gone, having recovered my passing infatuation for him, I tookkindly to the Mayor and accepted him, without telling him what I ought tohave told him--but the words stuck in my throat. I had not been engagedto him many days before I found that there was something which I shouldnot be able to hide much longer. 

"You know, my dear, that my mother had been long dead, and I never had asister or any near kinswoman. At my wits' end who I should consult, instinct drew me to Mrs. Humdrum, then a woman of about five-and-forty. She was a grand lady, while I was about the rank of one of my ownhousemaids. I had no claim on her; I went to her as a lost dog looksinto the faces of people on a road, and singles out the one who will mostsurely help him. I had had a good look at her once as she was putting onher gloves, and I liked the way she did it. I marvel at my own boldness. At any rate, I asked to see her, and told her my story exactly as I havenow told it to you. 

"'You have no mother?' she said, when she had heard all. 

"'No. '

"'Then, my dear, I will mother you myself. Higgs is out of the question, so Strong must marry you at once. We will tell him everything, and I, onyour behalf, will insist upon it that the engagement is at an end. Ihear good reports of him, and if we are fair towards him he will begenerous towards us. Besides, I believe he is so much in love with youthat he would sell his soul to get you. Send him to me. I can deal withhim better than you can. '"

"And what, " said George, "did my father, as I shall always call him, sayto all this?

"Truth bred chivalry in him at once. 'I will marry her, ' he said, withhardly a moment's hesitation, 'but it will be better that I should not beput on any lower footing than Higgs was. I ought not to be deniedanything that has been allowed to him. If I am trusted, I can trustmyself to trust and think no evil either of Higgs or her. They werepestered beyond endurance, as I have been ere now. If I am held at arm'slength till I am fast bound, I shall marry Yram just the same, but Idoubt whether she and I shall ever be quite happy. '

"'Come to my house this evening, ' said Mrs. Humdrum, 'and you will findYram there. ' He came, he found me, and within a fortnight we were manand wife. "

"How much does not all this explain, " said George, smiling but verygravely. "And you are going to ask me to forgive you for robbing me ofsuch a father. "

"He has forgiven me, my dear, for robbing him of such a son. He neverreproached me. From that day to this he has never given me a harsh wordor even syllable. When you were born he took to you at once, as, indeed, who could help doing? for you were the sweetest child both in looks andtemper that it is possible to conceive. Your having light hair and eyesmade things more difficult; for this, and your being born, almost to theday, nine months after Higgs had left us, made people talk--but yourfather kept their tongues within bounds. They talk still, but they likedwhat little they saw of Higgs, they like the Mayor and me, and they likeyou the best of all; so they please themselves by having the thing bothways. Though, therefore, you are son to the Mayor, Higgs cast somemiraculous spell upon me before he left, whereby my son should be in somemeasure his as well as the Mayor's. It was this miraculous spell thatcaused you to be born two months too soon, and we called you by Higgs'sfirst name as though to show that we took that view of the matterourselves. 

"Mrs. Humdrum, however, was very positive that there was no spell at all. She had repeatedly heard her father say that the Mayor's grandfather waslight-haired and blue-eyed, and that every third generation in thatfamily a light-haired son was born. The people believe this too. Nobodydisbelieves Mrs. Humdrum, but they like the miracle best, so that is howit has been settled. 

"I never knew whether Mrs. Humdrum told her husband, but I think shemust; for a place was found almost immediately for my husband in Mr. Humdrum's business. He made himself useful; after a few years he wastaken into partnership, and on Mr. Humdrum's death became head of thefirm. Between ourselves, he says laughingly that all his success in lifewas due to Higgs and me. "

"I shall give Mrs. Humdrum a double dose of kissing, " said Georgethoughtfully, "next time I see her. "

"Oh, do, do; she will so like it. And now, my darling boy, tell yourpoor mother whether or no you can forgive her. "

He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, but for atime he could find no utterance. Presently he smiled, and said, "Ofcourse I do, but it is you who should forgive me, for was it not all myfault?"

When Yram, too, had become more calm, she said, "It is late, and we haveno time to lose. Higgs's coming at this time is mere accident; if he hadhad news from Erewhon he would have known much that he did not know. Icannot guess why he has come--probably through mere curiosity, but hewill hear or have heard--yes, you and he talked about it--of the temple;being here, he will want to see the dedication. From what you have toldme I feel sure that he will not make a fool of himself by saying who heis, but in spite of his disguise he may be recognised. I do not doubtthat he is now in Sunch'ston; therefore, to-morrow morning scour the townto find him. Tell him he is discovered, tell him you know from me thathe is your father, and that I wish to see him with all good-will towardshim. He will come. We will then talk to him, and show him that he mustgo back at once. You can escort him to the statues; after passing themhe will be safe. He will give you no trouble, but if he does, arrest himon a charge of poaching, and take him to the gaol, where we must do thebest we can with him--but he will give you none. We need say nothing tothe Professors. No one but ourselves will know of his having been here. "

On this she again embraced her son and left him. If two photographscould have been taken of her, one as she opened the door and lookedfondly back on George, and the other as she closed it behind her, thesecond portrait would have seemed taken ten years later than the first. 

As for George, he went gravely but not unhappily to his own room. "Sothat ready, plausible fellow, " he muttered to himself, "was my ownfather. At any rate, I am not son to a fool--and he liked me. "

CHAPTER X: MY FATHER, FEARING RECOGNITION AT SUNCH'-STON, BETAKES HIMSELFTO THE NEIGHBOURING TOWN OF FAIRMEAD

I will now return to my father. Whether from fatigue or over-excitement, he slept only by fits and starts, and when awake he could not rid himselfof the idea that, in spite of his disguise, he might be recognised, either at his inn or in the town, by some one of the many who had seenhim when he was in prison. In this case there was no knowing what mighthappen, but at best, discovery would probably prevent his seeing thetemple dedicated to himself, and hearing Professor Hanky's sermon, whichhe was particularly anxious to do. 

So strongly did he feel the real or fancied danger he should incur byspending Saturday in Sunch'ston, that he rose as soon as he heard any onestirring, and having paid his bill, walked quietly out of the house, without saying where he was going. 

There was a town about ten miles off, not so important as Sunch'ston, buthaving some 10, 000 inhabitants; he resolved to find accommodation therefor the day and night, and to walk over to Sunch'ston in time for thededication ceremony, which he had found on inquiry, would begin at eleveno'clock. 

The country between Sunch'ston and Fairmead, as the town just referred towas named, was still mountainous, and being well wooded as well as wellwatered, abounded in views of singular beauty; but I have no time todwell on the enthusiasm with which my father described them to me. Theroad took him at right angles to the main road down the valley fromSunch'ston to the capital, and this was one reason why he had chosenFairmead rather than Clearwater, which was the next town lower down onthe main road. He did not, indeed, anticipate that any one would want tofind him, but whoever might so want would be more likely to go straightdown the valley than to turn aside towards Fairmead. 

On reaching this place, he found it pretty full of people, for Saturdaywas market-day. There was a considerable open space in the middle of thetown, with an arcade running round three sides of it, while the fourthwas completely taken up by the venerable Musical Bank of the city, abuilding which had weathered the storms of more than five centuries. Onthe outside of the wall, abutting on the market-place, were three wooden_sedilia_, in which the Mayor and two coadjutors sate weekly on market-days to give advice, redress grievances, and, if necessary (which it veryseldom was) to administer correction. 

My father was much interested in watching the proceedings in a case whichhe found on inquiry to be not infrequent. A man was complaining to theMayor that his daughter, a lovely child of eight years old, had none ofthe faults common to children of her age, and, in fact, seemed absolutelydeficient in immoral sense. She never told lies, had never stolen somuch as a lollipop, never showed any recalcitrancy about saying herprayers, and by her incessant obedience had filled her poor father andmother with the gravest anxiety as regards her future well-being. Hefeared it would be necessary to send her to a deformatory. 

"I have generally found, " said the Mayor, gravely but kindly, "that thefault in these distressing cases lies rather with the parent than thechildren. Does the child never break anything by accident?"

"Yes, " said the father. 

"And you have duly punished her for it?"

"Alas! sir, I fear I only told her she was a naughty girl, and must notdo it again. "

"Then how can you expect your child to learn those petty arts ofdeception without which she must fall an easy prey to any one who wishesto deceive her? How can she detect lying in other people unless she hashad some experience of it in her own practice? How, again, can she learnwhen it will be well for her to lie, and when to refrain from doing so, unless she has made many a mistake on a small scale while at an age whenmistakes do not greatly matter? The Sunchild (and here he reverentlyraised his hat), as you may read in chapter thirty-one of his Sayings, has left us a touching tale of a little boy, who, having cut down anapple tree in his father's garden, lamented his inability to tell a lie. Some commentators, indeed, have held that the evidence was so stronglyagainst the boy that no lie would have been of any use to him, and thathis perception of this fact was all that he intended to convey; but thebest authorities take his simple words, 'I cannot tell a lie, ' in theirmost natural sense, as being his expression of regret at the way in whichhis education had been neglected. If that case had come before me, Ishould have punished the boy's father, unless he could show that the bestauthorities are mistaken (as indeed they too generally are), and thatunder more favourable circumstances the boy would have been able to lie, and would have lied accordingly. 

"There is no occasion for you to send your child to a deformatory. I amalways averse to extreme measures when I can avoid them. Moreover, in adeformatory she would be almost certain to fall in with characters asintractable as her own. Take her home and whip her next time she so muchas pulls about the salt. If you will do this whenever you get a chance, I have every hope that you will have no occasion to come to me again. "

"Very well, sir, " said the father, "I will do my best, but the child isso instinctively truthful that I am afraid whipping will be of littleuse. "

There were other cases, none of them serious, which in the old days wouldhave been treated by a straightener. My father had already surmised thatthe straightener had become extinct as a class, having been superseded bythe Managers and Cashiers of the Musical Banks, but this became moreapparent as he listened to the cases that next came on. These were dealtwith quite reasonably, except that the magistrate always ordered anemetic and a strong purge in addition to the rest of his sentence, asholding that all diseases of the moral sense spring from impuritieswithin the body, which must be cleansed before there could be any hope ofspiritual improvement. If any devils were found in what passed from theprisoner's body, he was to be brought up again; for in this case the restof the sentence might very possibly be remitted. 

When the Mayor and his coadjutors had done sitting, my father strolledround the Musical Bank and entered it by the main entrance, which was onthe top of a flight of steps that went down on to the principal street ofthe town. How strange it is that, no matter how gross a superstition mayhave polluted it, a holy place, if hallowed by long veneration, remainsalways holy. Look at Delphi. What a fraud it was, and yet how hallowedit must ever remain. But letting this pass, Musical Banks, especiallywhen of great age, always fascinated my father, and being now tired withhis walk, he sat down on one of the many rush-bottomed seats, and (forthere was no service at this hour) gave free rein to meditation. 

How peaceful it all was with its droning old-world smell of ancestor, dryrot, and stale incense. As the clouds came and went, the grey-green, cobweb-chastened, light ebbed and flowed over the walls and ceiling; towatch the fitfulness of its streams was a sufficient occupation. A henlaid an egg outside and began to cackle--it was an event of magnitude; apeasant sharpening his scythe, a blacksmith hammering at his anvil, theclack of a wooden shoe upon the pavement, the boom of a bumble-bee, thedripping of the fountain, all these things, with such concert as theykept, invited the dewy-feathered sleep that visited him, and held him forthe best part of an hour. 

My father has said that the Erewhonians never put up monuments or writeepitaphs for their dead, and this he believed to be still true; but itwas not so always, and on waking his eye was caught by a monument ofgreat beauty, which bore a date of about 1550 of our era. It was to anold lady, who must have been very loveable if the sweet smiling face ofher recumbent figure was as faithful to the original as its stronglymarked individuality suggested. I need not give the earlier part of herepitaph, which was conventional enough, but my father was so struck withthe concluding lines, that he copied them into the note-book which healways carried in his pocket. They ran:-

 I fall asleep in the full and certain hope That my slumber shall not be broken; And that though I be all-forgetting, Yet shall I not be all-forgotten, But continue that life in the thoughts and deeds Of those I loved, Into which, while the power to strive was yet vouchsafed me, I fondly strove to enter. 

My father deplored his inability to do justice to the subtle tendernessof the original, but the above was the nearest he could get to it. 

How different this from the opinions concerning a future state which hehad tried to set before the Erewhonians some twenty years earlier. Itall came back to him, as the storks had done, now that he was again in anErewhonian environment, and he particularly remembered how one youth hadinveighed against our European notions of heaven and hell with acontemptuous flippancy that nothing but youth and ignorance could evenpalliate. 

"Sir, " he had said to my father, "your heaven will not attract me unlessI can take my clothes and my luggage. Yes; and I must lose my luggageand find it again. On arriving, I must be told that it has unfortunatelybeen taken to a wrong circle, and that there may be some difficulty inrecovering it--or it shall have been sent up to mansion number fivehundred thousand millions nine hundred thousand forty six thousand eighthundred and eleven, whereas it should have gone to four hundred thousandmillions, &c. , &c. ; and am I sure that I addressed it rightly? Then, when I am just getting cross enough to run some risk of being turned out, the luggage shall make its appearance, hat-box, umbrella, rug, golf-sticks, bicycle, and everything else all quite correct, and in mydelight I shall tip the angel double and realise that I am enjoyingmyself. 

"Or I must have asked what I could have for breakfast, and be told Icould have boiled eggs, or eggs and bacon, or filleted plaice. 'Filletedplaice, ' I shall exclaim, 'no! not that. Have you any red mullets?' Andthe angel will say, 'Why no, sir, the gulf has been so rough that therehas hardly any fish come in this three days, and there has been such arun on it that we have nothing left but plaice. '

"'Well, well, ' I shall say, 'have you any kidneys?'

"'You can have one kidney, sir', will be the answer. 

"'One kidney, indeed, and you call this heaven! At any rate you willhave sausages?'

"'Then the angel will say, 'We shall have some after Sunday, sir, but weare quite out of them at present. '

"And I shall say, somewhat sulkily, 'Then I suppose I must have eggs andbacon. '

"But in the morning there will come up a red mullet, beautifully cooked, a couple of kidneys and three sausages browned to a turn, and seasonedwith just so much sage and thyme as will savour without overwhelmingthem; and I shall eat everything. It shall then transpire that the angelknew about the luggage, and what I was to have for breakfast, all thetime, but wanted to give me the pleasure of finding things turn outbetter than I had expected. Heaven would be a dull place without suchoccasional petty false alarms as these. "

I have no business to leave my father's story, but the mouth of the oxthat treadeth out the corn should not be so closely muzzled that hecannot sometimes filch a mouthful for himself; and when I had copied outthe foregoing somewhat irreverent paragraphs, which I took down (with noimportant addition or alteration) from my father's lips, I could notrefrain from making a few reflections of my own, which I will ask thereader's forbearance if I lay before him. 

Let heaven and hell alone, but think of Hades, with Tantalus, Sisyphus, Tityus, and all the rest of them. How futile were the attempts of theold Greeks and Romans to lay before us any plausible conception ofeternal torture. What were the Danaids doing but that which each one ofus has to do during his or her whole life? What are our bodies if notsieves that we are for ever trying to fill, but which we must refillcontinually without hope of being able to keep them full for longtogether? Do we mind this? Not so long as we can get the wherewithal tofill them; and the Danaids never seem to have run short of water. Theywould probably ere long take to clearing out any obstruction in theirsieves if they found them getting choked. What could it matter to themwhether the sieves got full or no? They were not paid for filling them. 

Sisyphus, again! Can any one believe that he would go on rolling thatstone year after year and seeing it roll down again unless he likedseeing it? We are not told that there was a dragon which attacked himwhenever he tried to shirk. If he had greatly cared about getting hisload over the last pinch, experience would have shown him some way ofdoing so. The probability is that he got to enjoy the downward rush ofhis stone, and very likely amused himself by so timing it as to cause thegreatest scare to the greatest number of the shades that were below. 

What though Tantalus found the water shun him and the fruits fly from himwhen he tried to seize them? The writer of the "Odyssey" gives us nohint that he was dying of thirst or hunger. The pores of his skin wouldabsorb enough water to prevent the first, and we may be sure that he gotfruit enough, one way or another, to keep him going. 

Tityus, as an effort after the conception of an eternity of torture, isnot successful. What could an eagle matter on the liver of a man whosebody covered nine acres? Before long he would find it an agreeablestimulant. If, then, the greatest minds of antiquity could inventnothing that should carry better conviction of eternal torture, is itlikely that the conviction can be carried at all?

Methought I saw Jove sitting on the topmost ridges of Olympus andconfessing failure to Minerva. "I see, my dear, " he said, "that there isno use in trying to make people very happy or very miserable for longtogether. Pain, if it does not soon kill, consists not so much inpresent suffering as in the still recent memory of a time when there wasless, and in the fear that there will soon be more; and so happiness liesless in immediate pleasure than in lively recollection of a worse timeand lively hope of better. "

As for the young gentleman above referred to, my father met him with theassurance that there had been several cases in which living people hadbeen caught up into heaven or carried down into hell, and been allowed toreturn to earth and report what they had seen; while to others visionshad been vouchsafed so clearly that thousands of authentic pictures hadbeen painted of both states. All incentive to good conduct, he had thenalleged, was found to be at once removed from those who doubted thefidelity of these pictures. 

This at least was what he had then said, but I hardly think he would havesaid it at the time of which I am now writing. As he continued to sit inthe Musical Bank, he took from his valise the pamphlet on "The Physics ofVicarious Existence, " by Dr. Gurgoyle, which he had bought on thepreceding evening, doubtless being led to choose this particular work bythe tenor of the old lady's epitaph. 

The second title he found to run, "Being Strictures on Certain Heresiesconcerning a Future State that have been Engrafted on the Sunchild'sTeaching. "

My father shuddered as he read this title. "How long, " he said tohimself, "will it be before they are at one another's throats?"

On reading the pamphlet, he found it added little to what the epitaph hadalready conveyed; but it interested him, as showing that, howevercataclysmic a change of national opinions may appear to be, people willfind means of bringing the new into more or less conformity with the old. 

Here it is a mere truism to say that many continue to live a vicariouslife long after they have ceased to be aware of living. This view is asold as the _non omnis moriar_ of Horace, and we may be sure somethousands of years older. It is only, therefore, with much diffidencethat I have decided to give a _resume_ of opinions many of which thosewhom I alone wish to please will have laid to heart from their youthupwards. In brief, Dr. Gurgoyle's contention comes to little more thansaying that the quick are more dead, and the dead more quick, than wecommonly think. To be alive, according to him, is only to be unable tounderstand how dead one is, and to be dead is only to be invinciblyignorant concerning our own livingness--for the dead would be as livingas the living if we could only get them to believe it. 

CHAPTER XI: PRESIDENT GURGOYLE'S PAMPHLET "ON THE PHYSICS OF VICARIOUSEXISTENCE"

Belief, like any other moving body, follows the path of least resistance, and this path had led Dr. Gurgoyle to the conviction, real or feigned, that my father was son to the sun, probably by the moon, and that hisascent into the sky with an earthly bride was due to the sun'sinterference with the laws of nature. Nevertheless he was looked upon asmore or less of a survival, and was deemed lukewarm, if not heretical, bythose who seemed to be the pillars of the new system. 

My father soon found that not even Panky could manipulate his teachingmore freely than the Doctor had done. My father had taught that when aman was dead there was an end of him, until he should rise again in theflesh at the last day, to enter into eternity either of happiness ormisery. He had, indeed, often talked of the immortality which someachieve even in this world; but he had cheapened this, declaring it to bean unsubstantial mockery, that could give no such comfort in the hour ofdeath as was unquestionably given by belief in heaven and hell. 

Dr. Gurgoyle, however, had an equal horror, on the one hand, of anythinginvolving resumption of life by the body when it was once dead, and onthe other, of the view that life ended with the change which we calldeath. He did not, indeed, pretend that he could do much to take awaythe sting from death, nor would he do this if he could, for if men didnot fear death unduly, they would often court it unduly. Death can onlybe belauded at the cost of belittling life; but he held that a reasonableassurance of fair fame after death is a truer consolation to the dying, atruer comfort to surviving friends, and a more real incentive to goodconduct in this life, than any of the consolations or incentives falselyfathered upon the Sunchild. 

He began by setting aside every saying ascribed, however truly, to myfather, if it made against his views, and by putting his own glosses onall that he could gloze into an appearance of being in his favour. Iwill pass over his attempt to combat the rapidly spreading belief in aheaven and hell such as we accept, and will only summarise his contentionthat, of our two lives--namely, the one we live in our own persons, andthat other life which we live in other people both before our reputeddeath and after it--the second is as essential a factor of our completelife as the first is, and sometimes more so. 

Life, he urged, lies not in bodily organs, but in the power to use them, and in the use that is made of them--that is to say, in the work they do. As the essence of a factory is not in the building wherein the work isdone, nor yet in the implements used in turning it out, but in the will-power of the master and in the goods he makes; so the true life of a manis in his will and work, not in his body. "Those, " he argued, "who makethe life of a man reside within his body, are like one who should mistakethe carpenter's tool-box for the carpenter. "

He maintained that this had been my father's teaching, for which myfather heartily trusts that he may be forgiven. 

He went on to say that our will-power is not wholly limited to theworking of its own special system of organs, but under certain conditionscan work and be worked upon by other will-powers like itself: so that if, for example, A's will-power has got such hold on B's as to be able, through B, to work B's mechanism, what seems to have been B's action willin reality have been more A's than B's, and this in the same real senseas though the physical action had been effected through A's ownmechanical system--A, in fact, will have been living in B. Theuniversally admitted maxim that he who does this or that by the hand ofan agent does it himself, shews that the foregoing view is only aroundabout way of stating what common sense treats as a matter of course. 

Hence, though A's individual will-power must be held to cease when thetools it works with are destroyed or out of gear, yet, so long as anysurvivors were so possessed by it while it was still efficient, or, again, become so impressed by its operation on them through work that hehas left, as to act in obedience to his will-power rather than their own, A has a certain amount of _bona fide_ life still remaining. Hisvicarious life is not affected by the dissolution of his body; and inmany cases the sum total of a man's vicarious action and of its outcomeexceeds to an almost infinite extent the sum total of those actions andworks that were effected through the mechanism of his own physicalorgans. In these cases his vicarious life is more truly his life thanany that he lived in his own person. 

"True, " continued the Doctor, "while living in his own person, a manknows, or thinks he knows, what he is doing, whereas we have no reason tosuppose such knowledge on the part of one whose body is already dust; butthe consciousness of the doer has less to do with the livingness of thedeed than people generally admit. We know nothing of the power that setsour heart beating, nor yet of the beating itself so long as it is normal. We know nothing of our breathing or of our digestion, of theall-important work we achieved as embryos, nor of our growth from infancyto manhood. No one will say that these were not actions of a livingagent, but the more normal, the healthier, and thus the more trulyliving, the agent is, the less he will know or have known of his ownaction. The part of our bodily life that enters into our consciousnessis very small as compared with that of which we have no consciousness. What completer proof can we have that livingness consists in deed ratherthan in consciousness of deed?

"The foregoing remarks are not intended to apply so much to vicariousaction in virtue, we will say, of a settlement, or testamentarydisposition that cannot be set aside. Such action is apt to be toounintelligent, too far from variation and quick change to rank as truevicarious action; indeed it is not rarely found to effect the veryopposite of what the person who made the settlement or will desired. Theyare meant to apply to that more intelligent and versatile actionengendered by affectionate remembrance. Nevertheless, even thecompulsory vicarious action taken in consequence of a will, and indeedthe very name "will" itself, shews that though we cannot take eitherflesh or money with us, we can leave our will-power behind us in veryefficient operation. 

"This vicarious life (on which I have insisted, I fear at unnecessarylength, for it is so obvious that none can have failed to realise it) islived by every one of us before death as well as after it, and is littleless important to us than that of which we are to some extent consciousin our own persons. A man, we will say, has written a book whichdelights or displeases thousands of whom he knows nothing, and who knownothing of him. The book, we will suppose, has considerable, or at anyrate some influence on the action of these people. Let us suppose thewriter fast asleep while others are enjoying his work, and acting inconsequence of it, perhaps at long distances from him. Which is histruest life--the one he is leading in them, or that equally unconsciouslife residing in his own sleeping body? Can there be a doubt that thevicarious life is the more efficient?

"Or when we are waking, how powerfully does not the life we are living inothers pain or delight us, according as others think ill or well of us?How truly do we not recognise it as part of our own existence, and howgreat an influence does not the fear of a present hell in men's badthoughts, and the hope of a present heaven in their good ones, influenceour own conduct? Have we not here a true heaven and a true hell, ascompared with the efficiency of which these gross material ones sofalsely engrafted on to the Sunchild's teaching are but as the flintimplements of a prehistoric race? 'If a man, ' said the Sunchild, 'fearnot man, whom he hath seen, neither will he fear God, whom he hath notseen. '"

My father again assures me that he never said this. Returning to Dr. Gurgoyle, he continued:--"It may be urged that on a man's death one ofthe great factors of his life is so annihilated that no kind of true lifecan be any further conceded to him. For to live is to be influenced, aswell as to influence; and when a man is dead how can he be influenced? Hecan haunt, but he cannot any more be haunted. He can come to us, but wecannot go to him. On ceasing, therefore, to be impressionable, so greata part of that wherein his life consisted is removed, that no true lifecan be conceded to him. 

"I do not pretend that a man is as fully alive after his so-called deathas before it. He is not. All I contend for is, that a considerableamount of efficient life still remains to some of us, and that a littlelife remains to all of us, after what we commonly regard as the completecessation of life. In answer, then, to those who have just urged thatthe destruction of one of the two great factors of life destroys lifealtogether, I reply that the same must hold good as regards death. 

"If to live is to be influenced and to influence, and if a man cannot beheld as living when he can no longer be influenced, surely to die is tobe no longer able either to influence or be influenced, and a man cannotbe held dead until both these two factors of death are present. Iffailure of the power to be influenced vitiates life, presence of thepower to influence vitiates death. And no one will deny that a man caninfluence for many a long year after he is vulgarly reputed as dead. 

"It seems, then, that there is no such thing as either absolute lifewithout any alloy of death, nor absolute death without any alloy of life, until, that is to say, all posthumous power to influence has faded away. And this, perhaps, is what the Sunchild meant by saying that in the midstof life we are in death, and so also that in the midst of death we are inlife. 

"And there is this, too. No man can influence fully until he can no morebe influenced--that is to say, till after his so-called death. Tillthen, his 'he' is still unsettled. We know not what other influences maynot be brought to bear upon him that may change the character of theinfluence he will exert on ourselves. Therefore, he is not fully livingtill he is no longer living. He is an incomplete work, which cannot havefull effect till finished. And as for his vicarious life--which we haveseen to be very real--this can be, and is, influenced by justappreciation, undue praise or calumny, and is subject, it may be, tosecular vicissitudes of good and evil fortune. 

"If this is not true, let us have no more talk about the immortality ofgreat men and women. The Sunchild was never weary of talking to us (aswe then sometimes thought, a little tediously) about a great poet of thatnation to which it pleased him to feign that he belonged. How plainlycan we not now see that his words were spoken for our learning--for theenforcement of that true view of heaven and hell on which I am feeblytrying to insist? The poet's name, he said, was Shakespeare. Whilst hewas alive, very few people understood his greatness; whereas now, aftersome three hundred years, he is deemed the greatest poet that the worldhas ever known. 'Can this man, ' he asked, 'be said to have been trulyborn till many a long year after he had been reputed as truly dead? Whilehe was in the flesh, was he more than a mere embryo growing towards birthinto that life of the world to come in which he now shines so gloriously?What a small thing was that flesh and blood life, of which he was aloneconscious, as compared with that fleshless life which he lives but knowsnot in the lives of millions, and which, had it ever been fully revealedeven to his imagination, we may be sure that he could not have reached?'

"These were the Sunchild's words, as repeated to me by one of his chosenfriends while he was yet amongst us. Which, then, of this man's twolives should we deem best worth having, if we could choose one or other, but not both? The felt or the unfelt? Who would not go cheerfully toblock or stake if he knew that by doing so he could win such life as thispoet lives, though he also knew that on having won it he could know nomore about it? Does not this prove that in our heart of hearts we deeman unfelt life, in the heaven of men's loving thoughts, to be betterworth having than any we can reasonably hope for and still feel?

"And the converse of this is true; many a man has unhesitatingly laiddown his felt life to escape unfelt infamy in the hell of men's hatredand contempt. As body is the sacrament, or outward and visible sign, ofmind; so is posterity the sacrament of those who live after death. Eachis the mechanism through which the other becomes effective. 

"I grant that many live but a short time when the breath is out of them. Few seeds germinate as compared with those that rot or are eaten, andmost of this world's denizens are little more than still-born as regardsthe larger life, while none are immortal to the end of time. But the endof time is not worth considering; not a few live as many centuries aseither they or we need think about, and surely the world, so far as wecan guess its object, was made rather to be enjoyed than to last. 'Comeand go' pervades all things of which we have knowledge, and if there wasany provision made, it seems to have been for a short life and a merryone, with enough chance of extension beyond the grave to be worth tryingfor, rather than for the perpetuity even of the best and noblest. 

"Granted, again, that few live after death as long or as fully as theyhad hoped to do, while many, when quick, can have had none but thefaintest idea of the immortality that awaited them; it is neverthelesstrue that none are so still-born on death as not to enter into a life ofsome sort, however short and humble. A short life or a long one can nomore be bargained for in the unseen world than in the seen; as, however, care on the part of parents can do much for the longer life and greaterwell-being of their offspring in this world, so the conduct of thatoffspring in this world does much both to secure for itself longer tenureof life in the next, and to determine whether that life shall be one ofreward or punishment. 

"'Reward or punishment, ' some reader will perhaps exclaim; 'what mockery, when the essence of reward and punishment lies in their being felt bythose who have earned them. ' I can do nothing with those who either cryfor the moon, or deny that it has two sides, on the ground that we cansee but one. Here comes in faith, of which the Sunchild said, thatthough we can do little with it, we can do nothing without it. Faithdoes not consist, as some have falsely urged, in believing things oninsufficient evidence; this is not faith, but faithlessness to all thatwe should hold most faithfully. Faith consists in holding that theinstincts of the best men and women are in themselves an evidence whichmay not be set aside lightly; and the best men and women have ever heldthat death is better than dishonour, and desirable if honour is to be wonthereby. 

"It follows, then, that though our conscious flesh and blood life is theonly one that we can fully apprehend, yet we do also indeed move, evenhere, in an unseen world, wherein, when our palpable life is ended, weshall continue to live for a shorter or longer time--reaping roughly, though not infallibly, much as we have sown. Of this unseen world thebest men and women will be almost as heedless while in the flesh as theywill be when their life in flesh is over; for, as the Sunchild oftensaid, 'The Kingdom of Heaven cometh not by observation. ' It will be allin all to them, and at the same time nothing, for the better people theyare, the less they will think of anything but this present life. 

"What an ineffable contradiction in terms have we not here. What areversal, is it not, of all this world's canons, that we should hold eventhe best of all that we can know or feel in this life to be a poor thingas compared with hopes the fulfilment of which we can never either feelor know. Yet we all hold this, however little we may admit it toourselves. For the world at heart despises its own canons. "

I cannot quote further from Dr. Gurgoyle's pamphlet; suffice it that hepresently dealt with those who say that it is not right of any man to aimat thrusting himself in among the living when he has had his day. "Lethim die, " say they, "and let die as his fathers before him. " He arguedthat as we had a right to pester people till we got ourselves born, soalso we have a right to pester them for extension of life beyond thegrave. Life, whether before the grave or afterwards, is like love--allreason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it. Instinct on suchmatters is the older and safer guide; no one, therefore, should seek toefface himself as regards the next world more than as regards this. Ifhe is to be effaced, let others efface him; do not let him commitsuicide. Freely we have received; freely, therefore, let us take as muchmore as we can get, and let it be a stand-up fight between ourselves andposterity to see whether it can get rid of us or no. If it can, let it;if it cannot, it must put up with us. It can better care for itself thanwe can for ourselves when the breath is out of us. 

Not the least important duty, he continued, of posterity towards itselflies in passing righteous judgement on the forbears who stand up beforeit. They should be allowed the benefit of a doubt, and peccadilloesshould be ignored; but when no doubt exists that a man was engrainedlymean and cowardly, his reputation must remain in the Purgatory of Timefor a term varying from, say, a hundred to two thousand years. After ahundred years it may generally come down, though it will still be under acloud. After two thousand years it may be mentioned in any societywithout holding up of hands in horror. Our sense of moral guilt variesinversely as the squares of its distance in time and space fromourselves. 

Not so with heroism; this loses no lustre through time and distance. Goodis gold; it is rare, but it will not tarnish. Evil is like dirtywater--plentiful and foul, but it will run itself clear of taint. 

The Doctor having thus expatiated on his own opinions concerning heavenand hell, concluded by tilting at those which all right-minded peoplehold among ourselves. I shall adhere to my determination not toreproduce his arguments; suffice it that though less flippant than thoseof the young student whom I have already referred to, they were moreplausible; and though I could easily demolish them, the reader willprobably prefer that I should not set them up for the mere pleasure ofknocking them down. Here, then, I take my leave of good Dr. Gurgoyle andhis pamphlet; neither can I interrupt my story further by saying anythingabout the other two pamphlets purchased by my father. 

CHAPTER XII: GEORGE FAILS TO FIND MY FATHER, WHEREON YRAM CAUTIONS THEPROFESSORS

On the morning after the interview with her son described in a foregoingchapter, Yram told her husband what she had gathered from the Professors, and said that she was expecting Higgs every moment, inasmuch as she wasconfident that George would soon find him. 

"Do what you like, my dear, " said the Mayor. "I shall keep out of theway, for you will manage him better without me. You know what I think ofyou. "

He then went unconcernedly to his breakfast, at which the Professorsfound him somewhat taciturn. Indeed they set him down as one of thedullest and most uninteresting people they had ever met. 

When George returned and told his mother that though he had at last foundthe inn at which my father had slept, my father had left and could not betraced, she was disconcerted, but after a few minutes she said--

"He will come back here for the dedication, but there will be such crowdsthat we may not see him till he is inside the temple, and it will savetrouble if we can lay hold on him sooner. Therefore, ride either toClearwater or Fairmead, and see if you can find him. Try Fairmead first;it is more out of the way. If you cannot hear of him there, come back, get another horse, and try Clearwater. If you fail here too, we mustgive him up, and look out for him in the temple to-morrow morning. "

"Are you going to say anything to the Professors?"

"Not if you can bring Higgs here before night-fall. If you cannot dothis I must talk it over with my husband; I shall have some hours inwhich to make up my mind. Now go--the sooner the better. "

It was nearly eleven, and in a few minutes George was on his way. Bynoon he was at Fairmead, where he tried all the inns in vain for news ofa person answering the description of my father--for not knowing whatname my father might choose to give, he could trust only to description. He concluded that since my father could not be heard of in Fairmead byone o'clock (as it nearly was by the time he had been round all the inns)he must have gone somewhere else; he therefore rode back to Sunch'ston, made a hasty lunch, got a fresh horse, and rode to Clearwater, where hemet with no better success. At all the inns both at Fairmead andClearwater he left word that if the person he had described came later inthe day, he was to be told that the Mayoress particularly begged him toreturn at once to Sunch'ston, and come to the Mayor's house. 

Now all the time that George was at Fairmead my father was inside theMusical Bank, which he had entered before going to any inn. Here he hadbeen sitting for nearly a couple of hours, resting, dreaming, and readingBishop Gurgoyle's pamphlet. If he had left the Bank five minutesearlier, he would probably have been seen by George in the main street ofFairmead--as he found out on reaching the inn which he selected andordering dinner. 

He had hardly got inside the house before the waiter told him that youngMr. Strong, the Ranger from Sunch'ston, had been enquiring for him andhad left a message for him, which was duly delivered. 

My father, though in reality somewhat disquieted, showed no uneasiness, and said how sorry he was to have missed seeing Mr. Strong. "But, " headded, "it does not much matter; I need not go back this afternoon, for Ishall be at Sunch'ston to-morrow morning and will go straight to theMayor's. "

He had no suspicion that he was discovered, but he was a good dealpuzzled. Presently he inclined to the opinion that George, stillbelieving him to be Professor Panky, had wanted to invite him to thebanquet on the following day--for he had no idea that Hanky and Pankywere staying with the Mayor and Mayoress. Or perhaps the Mayor and hiswife did not like so distinguished a man's having been unable to find alodging in Sunch'ston, and wanted him to stay with them. Ill satisfiedas he was with any theory he could form, he nevertheless reflected thathe could not do better than stay where he was for the night, inasmuch asno one would be likely to look for him a second time at Fairmead. Hetherefore ordered his room at once. 

It was nearly seven before George got back to Sunch'ston. In themeantime Yram and the Mayor had considered the question whether anythingwas to be said to the Professors or no. They were confident that myfather would not commit himself--why, indeed, should he have dyed hishair and otherwise disguised himself, if he had not intended to remainundiscovered? Oh no; the probability was that if nothing was said to theProfessors now, nothing need ever be said, for my father might beescorted back to the statues by George on the Sunday evening and be toldthat he was not to return. Moreover, even though something untoward wereto happen after all, the Professors would have no reason for thinkingthat their hostess had known of the Sunchild's being in Sunch'ston. 

On the other hand, they were her guests, and it would not be handsome tokeep Hanky, at any rate, in the dark, when the knowledge that theSunchild was listening to every word he said might make him modify hissermon not a little. It might or it might not, but that was a matter forhim, not her. The only question for her was whether or no it would besharp practice to know what she knew and say nothing about it. Herhusband hated _finesse_ as much as she did, and they settled it thatthough the question was a nice one, the more proper thing to do would beto tell the Professors what it might so possibly concern one or both ofthem to know. 

On George's return without news of my father, they found he thought justas they did; so it was arranged that they should let the Professors dinein peace, but tell them about the Sunchild's being again in Erewhon assoon as dinner was over. 

"Happily, " said George, "they will do no harm. They will wish Higgs'spresence to remain unknown as much as we do, and they will be glad thathe should be got out of the country immediately. "

"Not so, my dear, " said Yram. "'Out of the country' will not do forthose people. Nothing short of 'out of the world' will satisfy them. "

"That, " said George promptly, "must not be. "

"Certainly not, my dear, but that is what they will want. I do not likehaving to tell them, but I am afraid we must. "

"Never mind, " said the Mayor, laughing. "Tell them, and let us see whathappens. "

They then dressed for dinner, where Hanky and Panky were the only guests. When dinner was over Yram sent away her other children, George aloneremaining. He sat opposite the Professors, while the Mayor and Yram wereat the two ends of the table. 

"I am afraid, dear Professor Hanky, " said Yram, "that I was not quiteopen with you last night, but I wanted time to think things over, and Iknow you will forgive me when you remember what a number of guests I hadto attend to. " She then referred to what Hanky had told her about thesupposed ranger, and shewed him how obvious it was that this man was aforeigner, who had been for some time in Erewhon more than seventeenyears ago, but had had no communication with it since then. Havingpointed sufficiently, as she thought, to the Sunchild, she said, "You seewho I believe this man to have been. Have I said enough, or shall I saymore?"

"I understand you, " said Hanky, "and I agree with you that the Sunchildwill be in the temple to-morrow. It is a serious business, but I shallnot alter my sermon. He must listen to what I may choose to say, and Iwish I could tell him what a fool he was for coming here. If he behaveshimself, well and good: your son will arrest him quietly after service, and by night he will be in the Blue Pool. Your son is bound to throw himthere as a foreign devil, without the formality of a trial. It would bea most painful duty to me, but unless I am satisfied that that man hasbeen thrown into the Blue Pool, I shall have no option but to report thematter at headquarters. If, on the other hand, the poor wretch makes adisturbance, I can set the crowd on to tear him in pieces. "

George was furious, but he remained quite calm, and left everything tohis mother. 

"I have nothing to do with the Blue Pool, " said Yram drily. "My son, Idoubt not, will know how to do his duty; but if you let the people killthis man, his body will remain, and an inquest must be held, for thematter will have been too notorious to be hushed up. All Higgs'smeasurements and all marks on his body were recorded, and these alonewould identify him. My father, too, who is still master of the gaol, andmany another, could swear to him. Should the body prove, as no doubt itwould, to be that of the Sunchild, what is to become of Sunchildism?"

Hanky smiled. "It would not be proved. The measurements of a man oftwenty or thereabouts would not correspond with this man's. All weProfessors should attend the inquest, and half Bridgeford is now inSunch'ston. No matter though nine-tenths of the marks and measurementscorresponded, so long as there is a tenth that does not do so, we shouldnot be flesh and blood if we did not ignore the nine points and insistonly on the tenth. After twenty years we shall find enough to serve ourturn. Think of what all the learning of the country is committed to;think of the change in all our ideas and institutions; think of the Kingand of Court influence. I need not enlarge. We shall not permit thebody to be the Sunchild's. No matter what evidence you may produce, weshall sneer it down, and say we must have more before you can expect usto take you seriously; if you bring more, we shall pay no attention; andthe more you bring the more we shall laugh at you. No doubt those amongus who are by way of being candid will admit that your arguments ought tobe considered, but you must not expect that it will be any part of theirduty to consider them. 

"And even though we admitted that the body had been proved up to the hiltto be the Sunchild's, do you think that such a trifle as that couldaffect Sunchildism? Hardly. Sunch'ston is no match for Bridgeford andthe King; our only difficulty would lie in settling which was the mostplausible way of the many plausible ways in which the death could beexplained. We should hatch up twenty theories in less than twenty hours, and the last state of Sunchildism would be stronger than the first. Forthe people want it, and so long as they want it they will have it. Atthe same time the supposed identification of the body, even by some fewignorant people here, might lead to a local heresy that is as wellavoided, and it will be better that your son should arrest the man beforethe dedication, if he can be found, and throw him into the Blue Poolwithout any one but ourselves knowing that he has been here at all. "

I need not dwell on the deep disgust with which this speech was listenedto, but the Mayor, and Yram, and George said not a word. 

"But, Mayoress, " said Panky, who had not opened his lips so far, "are yousure that you are not too hasty in believing this stranger to be theSunchild? People are continually thinking that such and such another isthe Sunchild come down again from the sun's palace and going to and froamong us. How many such stories, sometimes very plausibly told, have wenot had during the last twenty years? They never take root, and die outof themselves as suddenly as they spring up. That the man is a poachercan hardly be doubted; I thought so the moment I saw him; but I think Ican also prove to you that he is not a foreigner, and, therefore, that heis not the Sunchild. He quoted the Sunchild's prayer with a corruptionthat can have only reached him from an Erewhonian source--"

Here Hanky interrupted him somewhat brusquely. "The man, Panky, " saidhe, "was the Sunchild; and he was not a poacher, for he had no idea thathe was breaking the law; nevertheless, as you say, Sunchildism on thebrain has been a common form of mania for several years. Several personshave even believed themselves to be the Sunchild. We must not forgetthis, if it should get about that Higgs has been here. "

Then, turning to Yram, he said sternly, "But come what may, your son musttake him to the Blue Pool at nightfall. "

"Sir, " said George, with perfect suavity, "you have spoken as though youdoubted my readiness to do my duty. Let me assure you very solemnly thatwhen the time comes for me to act, I shall act as duty may direct. "

"I will answer for him, " said Yram, with even more than her usual quick, frank smile, "that he will fulfil his instructions to the letter, unless, " she added, "some black and white horses come down from heavenand snatch poor Higgs out of his grasp. Such things have happened beforenow. "

"I should advise your son to shoot them if they do, " said Hanky drily andsub-defiantly. 

Here the conversation closed; but it was useless trying to talk ofanything else, so the Professors asked Yram to excuse them if theyretired early, in view of the fact that they had a fatiguing day beforethem. This excuse their hostess readily accepted. 

"Do not let us talk any more now, " said Yram as soon as they had left theroom. "It will be quite time enough when the dedication is over. But Irather think the black and white horses will come. "

"I think so too, my dear, " said the Mayor laughing. 

"They shall come, " said George gravely; "but we have not yet got enoughto make sure of bringing them. Higgs will perhaps be able to help me to-morrow. "

* * * * *

"Now what, " said Panky as they went upstairs, "does that woman mean--forshe means something? Black and white horses indeed!"

"I do not know what she means to do, " said the other, "but I know thatshe thinks she can best us. "

"I wish we had not eaten those quails. "

"Nonsense, Panky; no one saw us but Higgs, and the evidence of a foreigndevil, in such straits as his, could not stand for a moment. We did noteat them. No, no; she has something that she thinks better than that. Besides, it is absolutely impossible that she should have heard whathappened. What I do not understand is, why she should have told us aboutthe Sunchild's being here at all. Why not have left us to find it out orto know nothing about it? I do not understand it. "

So true is it, as Euclid long since observed, that the less cannotcomprehend that which is the greater. True, however, as this is, it isalso sometimes true that the greater cannot comprehend the less. Hankywent musing to his own room and threw himself into an easy chair to thinkthe position over. After a few minutes he went to a table on which hesaw pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a short letter; then he rang the bell. 

When the servant came he said, "I want to send this note to the managerof the new temple, and it is important that he should have it to-night. Be pleased, therefore, to take it to him and deliver it into his ownhands; but I had rather you said nothing about it to the Mayor orMayoress, nor to any of your fellow-servants. Slip out unperceived ifyou can. When you have delivered the note, ask for an answer at once, and bring it to me. "

So saying, he slipped a sum equal to about five shillings into the man'shand. 

The servant returned in about twenty minutes, for the temple was quitenear, and gave a note to Hanky, which ran, "Your wishes shall be attendedto without fail. "

"Good!" said Hanky to the man. "No one in the house knows of your havingrun this errand for me?"

"No one, sir. "

"Thank you! I wish you a very good night. "

CHAPTER XIII: A VISIT TO THE PROVINCIAL DEFORMATORY AT FAIRMEAD

Having finished his early dinner, and not fearing that he should beeither recognised at Fairmead or again enquired after from Sunch'ston, myfather went out for a stroll round the town, to see what else he couldfind that should be new and strange to him. He had not gone far beforehe saw a large building with an inscription saying that it was theProvincial Deformatory for Boys. Underneath the larger inscription therewas a smaller one--one of those corrupt versions of my father's sayings, which, on dipping into the Sayings of the Sunchild, he had found to be sovexatiously common. The inscription ran:-

 "When the righteous man turneth away from the righteousness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is a little naughty and wrong, he will generally be found to have gained in amiability what he has lost in righteousness. " Sunchild Sayings, chap. Xxii. V. 15. 

The case of the little girl that he had watched earlier in the day hadfilled him with a great desire to see the working of one of these curiousinstitutions; he therefore resolved to call on the headmaster (whose namehe found to be Turvey), and enquire about terms, alleging that he had aboy whose incorrigible rectitude was giving him much anxiety. Theinformation he had gained in the forenoon would be enough to save himfrom appearing to know nothing of the system. On having rung the bell, he announced himself to the servant as a Mr. Senoj, and asked if he couldsee the Principal. 

Almost immediately he was ushered into the presence of a beaming, dapper-looking, little old gentleman, quick of speech and movement, in spite ofsome little portliness. 

"Ts, ts, ts, " he said, when my father had enquired about terms and askedwhether he might see the system at work. "How unfortunate that youshould have called on a Saturday afternoon. We always have ahalf-holiday. But stay--yes--that will do very nicely; I will send forthem into school as a means of stimulating their refractory system. "

He called his servant and told him to ring the boys into school. Then, turning to my father he said, "Stand here, sir, by the window; you willsee them all come trooping in. H'm, h'm, I am sorry to see them stillcome back as soon as they hear the bell. I suppose I shall ding somerecalcitrancy into them some day, but it is uphill work. Do you see thehead-boy--the third of those that are coming up the path? I shall haveto get rid of him. Do you see him? he is going back to whip up thelaggers--and now he has boxed a boy's ears: that boy is one of the mosthopeful under my care. I feel sure he has been using improper language, and my head-boy has checked him instead of encouraging him. " And so ontill the boys were all in school. 

"You see, my dear sir, " he said to my father, "we are in an impossibleposition. We have to obey instructions from the Grand Council ofEducation at Bridgeford, and they have established these institutions inconsequence of the Sunchild's having said that we should aim at promotingthe greatest happiness of the greatest number. This, no doubt, is asound principle, and the greatest number are by nature somewhat dull, conceited, and unscrupulous. They do not like those who are quick, unassuming, and sincere; how, then, consistently with the firstprinciples either of morality or political economy as revealed to us bythe Sunchild, can we encourage such people if we can bring sincerity andmodesty fairly home to them? We cannot do so. And we must correct theyoung as far as possible from forming habits which, unless indulged inwith the greatest moderation, are sure to ruin them. 

"I cannot pretend to consider myself very successful. I do my best, butI can only aim at making my school a reflection of the outside world. Inthe outside world we have to tolerate much that is prejudicial to thegreatest happiness of the greatest number, partly because we cannotalways discover in time who may be let alone as being genuinelyinsincere, and who are in reality masking sincerity under a garb offlippancy, and partly also because we wish to err on the side of lettingthe guilty escape, rather than of punishing the innocent. Thus manypeople who are perfectly well known to belong to the straightforwardclasses are allowed to remain at large, and may be even seen hobnobbingwith the guardians of public immorality. Indeed it is not in the publicinterest that straightforwardness should be extirpated root and branch, for the presence of a small modicum of sincerity acts as a wholesomeirritant to the academicism of the greatest number, stimulating it toconsciousness of its own happy state, and giving it something to lookdown upon. Moreover, we hold it useful to have a certain number ofmelancholy examples, whose notorious failure shall serve as a warning tothose who neglect cultivating that power of immoral self-control whichshall prevent them from saying, or even thinking, anything that shall notimmediately and palpably minister to the happiness, and hence meet theapproval, of the greatest number. "

By this time the boys were all in school. "There is not one prig in thewhole lot, " said the headmaster sadly. "I wish there was, but only thoseboys come here who are notoriously too good to become current coin in theworld unless they are hardened with an alloy of vice. I should haveliked to show you our gambling, book-making, and speculation class, butthe assistant-master who attends to this branch of our curriculum is goneto Sunch'ston this afternoon. He has friends who have asked him to seethe dedication of the new temple, and he will not be back till Monday. Ireally do not know what I can do better for you than examine the boys inCounsels of Imperfection. "

So saying, he went into the schoolroom, over the fireplace of which myfather's eye caught an inscription, "Resist good, and it will fly fromyou. Sunchild's Sayings, xvii. 2. " Then, taking down a copy of the workjust named from a shelf above his desk, he ran his eye over a few of itspages. 

He called up a class of about twenty boys. 

"Now, my boys, " he said, "Why is it so necessary to avoid extremes oftruthfulness?"

"It is not necessary, sir, " said one youngster, "and the man who saysthat it is so is a scoundrel. "

"Come here, my boy, and hold out your hand. " When he had done so, Mr. Turvey gave him two sharp cuts with a cane. "There now, go down to thebottom of the class and try not to be so extremely truthful in future. "Then, turning to my father, he said, "I hate caning them, but it is theonly way to teach them. I really do believe that boy will know betterthan to say what he thinks another time. "

He repeated his question to the class, and the head-boy answered, "Because, sir, extremes meet, and extreme truth will be mixed withextreme falsehood. "

"Quite right, my boy. Truth is like religion; it has only twoenemies--the too much and the too little. Your answer is moresatisfactory than some of your recent conduct had led me to expect. "

"But, sir, you punished me only three weeks ago for telling you a lie. "

"Oh yes; why, so I did; I had forgotten. But then you overdid it. Stillit was a step in the right direction. "

"And now, my boy, " he said to a very frank and ingenuous youth about halfway up the class, "and how is truth best reached?"

"Through the falling out of thieves, sir. "

"Quite so. Then it will be necessary that the more earnest, careful, patient, self-sacrificing, enquirers after truth should have a good dealof the thief about them, though they are very honest people at the sametime. Now what does the man" (who on enquiry my father found to be noneother than Mr. Turvey himself) "say about honesty?"

"He says, sir, that honesty does not consist in never stealing, but inknowing how and where it will be safe to do so. "

"Remember, " said Mr. Turvey to my father, "how necessary it is that weshould have a plentiful supply of thieves, if honest men are ever to comeby their own. "

He spoke with the utmost gravity, evidently quite easy in his mind thathis scheme was the only one by which truth could be successfullyattained. 

"But pray let me have any criticism you may feel inclined to make. "

"I have none, " said my father. "Your system commends itself to commonsense; it is the one adopted in the law courts, and it lies at the veryfoundation of party government. If your academic bodies can supply thecountry with a sufficient number of thieves--which I have no doubt theycan--there seems no limit to the amount of truth that may be attained. If, however, I may suggest the only difficulty that occurs to me, it isthat academic thieves shew no great alacrity in falling out, but inclinerather to back each other up through thick and thin. "

"Ah, yes, " said Mr. Turvey, "there is that difficulty; neverthelesscircumstances from time to time arise to get them by the ears in spite ofthemselves. But from whatever point of view you may look at thequestion, it is obviously better to aim at imperfection than perfection;for if we aim steadily at imperfection, we shall probably get it within areasonable time, whereas to the end of our days we should never reachperfection. Moreover, from a worldly point of view, there is no mistakeso great as that of being always right. " He then turned to his class andsaid--

"And now tell me what did the Sunchild tell us about God and Mammon?"

The head-boy answered: "He said that we must serve both, for no man canserve God well and truly who does not serve Mammon a little also; and noman can serve Mammon effectually unless he serve God largely at the sametime. "

"What were his words?"

"He said, 'Cursed be they that say, "Thou shalt not serve God and Mammon, for it is the whole duty of man to know how to adjust the conflictingclaims of these two deities. "'"

Here my father interposed. "I knew the Sunchild; and I more than onceheard him speak of God and Mammon. He never varied the form of the wordshe used, which were to the effect that a man must serve either God orMammon, but that he could not serve both. "

"Ah!" said Mr. Turvey, "that no doubt was his exoteric teaching, butProfessors Hanky and Panky have assured me most solemnly that hisesoteric teaching was as I have given it. By the way, these gentlemenare both, I understand, at Sunch'ston, and I think it quite likely that Ishall have a visit from them this afternoon. If you do not know them Ishould have great pleasure in introducing you to them; I was atBridgeford with both of them. "

"I have had the pleasure of meeting them already, " said my father, "andas you are by no means certain that they will come, I will ask you to letme thank you for all that you have been good enough to shew me, and bidyou good-afternoon. I have a rather pressing engagement--"

"My dear sir, you must please give me five minutes more. I shall examinethe boys in the Musical Bank Catechism. " He pointed to one of them andsaid, "Repeat your duty towards your neighbour. "

"My duty towards my neighbour, " said the boy, "is to be quite sure thathe is not likely to borrow money of me before I let him speak to me atall, and then to have as little to do with him as--"

At this point there was a loud ring at the door bell. "Hanky and Pankycome to see me, no doubt, " said Mr. Turvey. "I do hope it is so. Youmust stay and see them. "

"My dear sir, " said my father, putting his handkerchief up to his face, "I am taken suddenly unwell and must positively leave you. " He said thisin so peremptory a tone that Mr. Turvey had to yield. My father held hishandkerchief to his face as he went through the passage and hall, butwhen the servant opened the door he took it down, for there was no Hankyor Panky--no one, in fact, but a poor, wizened old man who had come, ashe did every other Saturday afternoon, to wind up the Deformatory clocks. 

Nevertheless, he had been scared, and was in a very wicked-fleeth-when-no-man-pursueth frame of mind. He went to his inn, and shut himself up inhis room for some time, taking notes of all that had happened to him inthe last three days. But even at his inn he no longer felt safe. Howdid he know but that Hanky and Panky might have driven over fromSunch'ston to see Mr. Turvey, and might put up at this very house? orthey might even be going to spend the night here. He did not venture outof his room till after seven by which time he had made rough notes of asmuch of the foregoing chapters as had come to his knowledge so far. Muchof what I have told as nearly as I could in the order in which ithappened, he did not learn till later. After giving the merest outlineof his interview with Mr. Turvey, he wrote a note as follows:--"I supposeI must have held forth about the greatest happiness of the greatestnumber, but I had quite forgotten it, though I remember repeatedlyquoting my favourite proverb, 'Every man for himself, and the devil takethe hindmost. ' To this they have paid no attention. "

By seven his panic about Hanky and Panky ended, for if they had not comeby this time, they were not likely to do so. Not knowing that they werestaying at the Mayor's, he had rather settled it that they would nowstroll up to the place where they had left their hoard and bring it downas soon as night had fallen. And it is quite possible that they mighthave found some excuse for doing this, when dinner was over, if theirhostess had not undesignedly hindered them by telling them about theSunchild. When the conversation recorded in the preceding chapter wasover, it was too late for them to make any plausible excuse for leavingthe house; we may be sure, therefore, that much more had been said thanYram and George were able to remember and report to my father. 

After another stroll about Fairmead, during which he saw nothing but whaton a larger scale he had already seen at Sunch'ston, he returned to hisinn at about half-past eight, and ordered supper in a public room thatcorresponded with the coffee-room of an English hotel. 

CHAPTER XIV: MY FATHER MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR BALMY, AND WALKS WITHHIM NEXT DAY TO SUNCH'STON

Up to this point, though he had seen enough to shew him the main drift ofthe great changes that had taken place in Erewhonian opinions, my fatherhad not been able to glean much about the history of the transformation. He could see that it had all grown out of the supposed miracle of hisballoon ascent, and he could understand that the ignorant masses had beenso astounded by an event so contrary to all their experience, that theirfaith in experience was utterly routed and demoralised. It a man and awoman might rise from the earth and disappear into the sky, what elsemight not happen? If they had been wrong in thinking such a thingimpossible, in how much else might they not be mistaken also? The groundwas shaken under their very feet. 

It was not as though the thing had been done in a corner. Hundreds ofpeople had seen the ascent; and even if only a small number had beenpresent, the disappearance of the balloon, of my mother, and of my fatherhimself, would have confirmed their story. My father, then, couldunderstand that a single incontrovertible miracle of the first magnitudeshould uproot the hedges of caution in the minds of the common people, but he could not understand how such men as Hanky and Panky, whoevidently did not believe that there had been any miracle at all, hadbeen led to throw themselves so energetically into a movement sosubversive of all their traditions, when, as it seemed to him, if theyhad held out they might have pricked the balloon bubble easily enough, and maintained everything _in statu quo_. 

How, again, had they converted the King--if they had converted him? TheQueen had had full knowledge of all the preparations for the ascent. TheKing had had everything explained to him. The workmen and workwomen whohad made the balloon and the gas could testify that none but naturalmeans had been made use of--means which, if again employed any number oftimes, would effect a like result. How could it be that when the meansof resistance were so ample and so easy, the movement should neverthelesshave been irresistible? For had it not been irresistible, was it to bebelieved that astute men like Hanky and Panky would have let themselvesbe drawn into it?

What then had been its inner history? My father had so fully determinedto make his way back on the following evening, that he saw no chance ofgetting to know the facts--unless, indeed, he should be able to learnsomething from Hanky's sermon; he was therefore not sorry to find anelderly gentleman of grave but kindly aspect seated opposite to him whenhe sat down to supper. 

The expression on this man's face was much like that of the earlyChristians as shewn in the S. Giovanni Laterano bas-reliefs at Rome, andagain, though less aggressively self-confident, like that on the faces ofthose who have joined the Salvation Army. If he had been in England, myfather would have set him down as a Swedenborgian; this being impossible, he could only note that the stranger bowed his head, evidently saying ashort grace before he began to eat, as my father had always done when hewas in Erewhon before. I will not say that my father had never omittedto say grace during the whole of the last twenty years, but he said itnow, and unfortunately forgetting himself, he said it in the Englishlanguage, not loud, but nevertheless audibly. 

My father was alarmed at what he had done, but there was no need, for thestranger immediately said, "I hear, sir, that you have the gift oftongues. The Sunchild often mentioned it to us, as having beenvouchsafed long since to certain of the people, to whom, for ourlearning, he saw fit to feign that he belonged. He thus foreshadowedprophetically its manifestation also among ourselves. All which, however, you must know as well as I do. Can you interpret?"

My father was much shocked, but he remembered having frequently spoken ofthe power of speaking in unknown tongues which was possessed by many ofthe early Christians, and he also remembered that in times of highreligious enthusiasm this power had repeatedly been imparted, or supposedto be imparted, to devout believers in the middle ages. It grated uponhim to deceive one who was so obviously sincere, but to avoid immediatediscomfiture he fell in with what the stranger had said. 

"Alas! sir, " said he, "that rarer and more precious gift has beenwithheld from me; nor can I speak in an unknown tongue, unless as it isborne in upon me at the moment. I could not even repeat the words thathave just fallen from me. "

"That, " replied the stranger, "is almost invariably the case. Theseilluminations of the spirit are beyond human control. You spoke in solow a tone that I cannot interpret what you have just said, but shouldyou receive a second inspiration later, I shall doubtless be able tointerpret it for you. I have been singularly gifted in this respect--moreso, perhaps, than any other interpreter in Erewhon. "

My father mentally vowed that no second inspiration should be vouchsafedto him, but presently remembering how anxious he was for information onthe points touched upon at the beginning of this chapter, and seeing thatfortune had sent him the kind of man who would be able to enlighten him, he changed his mind; nothing, he reflected, would be more likely to makethe stranger talk freely with him, than the affording him an opportunityfor showing off his skill as an interpreter. 

Something, therefore, he would say, but what? No one could talk morefreely when the train of his thoughts, or the conversation of others, gave him his cue, but when told to say an unattached "something, " hecould not even think of "How do you do this morning? it is a very fineday;" and the more he cudgelled his brains for "something, " the more theygave no response. He could not even converse further with the strangerbeyond plain "yes" and "no"; so he went on with his supper, and inthinking of what he was eating and drinking for the moment forgot toransack his brain. No sooner had he left off ransacking it, than itsuggested something--not, indeed, a very brilliant something, but stillsomething. On having grasped it, he laid down his knife and fork, andwith the air of one distraught he said--

 "My name is Norval, on the Grampian Hills My father feeds his flock--a frugal swain. "

"I heard you, " exclaimed the stranger, "and I can interpret every word ofwhat you have said, but it would not become me to do so, for you haveconveyed to me a message more comforting than I can bring myself torepeat even to him who has conveyed it. "

Having said this he bowed his head, and remained for some time wrapped inmeditation. My father kept a respectful silence, but after a little timehe ventured to say in a low tone, how glad he was to have been the mediumthrough whom a comforting assurance had been conveyed. Presently, onfinding himself encouraged to renew the conversation, he threw out adeferential feeler as to the causes that might have induced Mr. Balmy tocome to Fairmead. "Perhaps, " he said, "you, like myself, have come tothese parts in order to see the dedication of the new temple; I could notget a lodging in Sunch'ston, so I walked down here this morning. "

This, it seemed, had been Mr. Balmy's own case, except that he had notyet been to Sunch'ston. Having heard that it was full to overflowing, hehad determined to pass the night at Fairmead, and walk over in themorning--starting soon after seven, so as to arrive in good time for thededication ceremony. When my father heard this, he proposed that theyshould walk together, to which Mr. Balmy gladly consented; it wastherefore arranged that they should go to bed early, breakfast soon aftersix, and then walk to Sunch'ston. My father then went to his own room, where he again smoked a surreptitious pipe up the chimney. 

Next morning the two men breakfasted together, and set out as the clockwas striking seven. The day was lovely beyond the power of words, andstill fresh--for Fairmead was some 2500 feet above the sea, and the sundid not get above the mountains that overhung it on the east side, tillafter eight o'clock. Many persons were also starting for Sunch'ston, andthere was a procession got up by the Musical Bank Managers of the town, who walked in it, robed in rich dresses of scarlet and white embroideredwith much gold thread. There was a banner displaying an open chariot inwhich the Sunchild and his bride were seated, beaming with smiles, and inattitudes suggesting that they were bowing to people who were below them. The chariot was, of course, drawn by the four black and white horses ofwhich the reader has already heard, and the balloon had been ignored. Readers of my father's book will perhaps remember that my mother was notseen at all--she was smuggled into the car of the balloon along withsundry rugs, under which she lay concealed till the balloon had left theearth. All this went for nothing. It has been said that though Godcannot alter the past, historians can; it is perhaps because they can beuseful to Him in this respect that He tolerates their existence. Painters, my father now realised, can do all that historians can, witheven greater effect. 

Women headed the procession--the younger ones dressed in white, withveils and chaplets of roses, blue cornflower, and pheasant's eyeNarcissus, while the older women were more soberly attired. The BankManagers and the banner headed the men, who were mostly peasants, butamong them were a few who seemed to be of higher rank, and these, for themost part, though by no means all of them, wore their clothes reversed--asI have forgotten to say was done also by Mr. Balmy. Both men and womenjoined in singing a litany the words of which my father could not catch;the tune was one he had been used to play on his apology for a flute whenhe was in prison, being, in fact, none other than "Home, Sweet Home. "There was no harmony; they never got beyond the first four bars, butthese they must have repeated, my father thought, at least a hundredtimes between Fairmead and Sunch'ston. "Well, " said he to himself, "however little else I may have taught them, I at any rate gave them thediatonic scale. "

He now set himself to exploit his fellow-traveller, for they soon gotpast the procession. 

"The greatest miracle, " said he, "in connection with this whole matter, has been--so at least it seems to me--not the ascent of the Sunchild withhis bride, but the readiness with which the people generally acknowledgedits miraculous character. I was one of those that witnessed the ascent, but I saw no signs that the crowd appreciated its significance. Theywere astounded, but they did not fall down and worship. "

"Ah, " said the other, "but you forget the long drought and the rain thatthe Sunchild immediately prevailed on the air-god to send us. He hadannounced himself as about to procure it for us; it was on this groundthat the King assented to the preparation of those material means thatwere necessary before the horses of the sun could attach themselves tothe chariot into which the balloon was immediately transformed. Thosehorses might not be defiled by contact with this gross earth. I toowitnessed the ascent; at the moment, I grant you, I saw neither chariotnor horses, and almost all those present shared my own temporaryblindness; the whole action from the moment when the balloon left theearth, moved so rapidly, that we were flustered, and hardly knew what itwas that we were really seeing. It was not till two or three years laterthat I found the scene presenting itself to my soul's imaginary sight inthe full splendour which was no doubt witnessed, but not apprehended, bymy bodily vision. "

"There, " said my father, "you confirm an opinion that I have longheld. --Nothing is so misleading as the testimony of eye-witnesses. "

"A spiritual enlightenment from within, " returned Mr. Balmy, "is more tobe relied on than any merely physical affluence from external objects. Now, when I shut my eyes, I see the balloon ascend a little way, butalmost immediately the heavens open, the horses descend, the balloon istransformed, and the glorious pageant careers onward till it vanishesinto the heaven of heavens. Hundreds with whom I have conversed assureme that their experience has been the same as mine. Has yours beendifferent?"

"Oh no, not at all; but I always see some storks circling round theballoon before I see any horses. "

"How strange! I have heard others also say that they saw the storks youmention; but let me do my utmost I cannot force them into my mental imageof the scene. This shows, as you were saying just now, how incompletethe testimony of an eye-witness often is. It is quite possible that thestorks were there, but the horses and the chariot have impressedthemselves more vividly on my mind than anything else has. "

"Quite so; and I am not without hope that even at this late hour somefurther details may yet be revealed to us. "

"It is possible, but we should be as cautious in accepting any freshdetails as in rejecting them. Should some heresy obtain wide acceptance, visions will perhaps be granted to us that may be useful in refuting it, but otherwise I expect nothing more. "

"Neither do I, but I have heard people say that inasmuch as the Sunchildsaid he was going to interview the air-god in order to send us rain, hewas more probably son to the air-god than to the sun. Now here is aheresy which--"

"But, my dear sir, " said Mr. Balmy, interrupting him with great warmth, "he spoke of his father in heaven as endowed with attributes farexceeding any that can be conceivably ascribed to the air-god. The powerof the air-god does not extend beyond our own atmosphere. "

"Pray believe me, " said my father, who saw by the ecstatic gleam in hiscompanion's eye that there was nothing to be done but to agree with him, "that I accept--"

"Hear me to the end, " replied Mr. Balmy. "Who ever heard the Sunchildclaim relationship with the air-god? He could command the air-god, andevidently did so, halting no doubt for this beneficent purpose on hisjourney towards his ultimate destination. Can we suppose that the air-god, who had evidently intended withholding the rain from us for anindefinite period, should have so immediately relinquished his designsagainst us at the intervention of any less exalted personage than thesun's own offspring? Impossible!"

"I quite agree with you, " exclaimed my father, "it is out of the--"

"Let me finish what I have to say. When the rain came so copiously fordays, even those who had not seen the miraculous ascent found itsconsequences come so directly home to them, that they had no difficultyin accepting the report of others. There was not a farmer or cottager inthe land but heaved a sigh of relief at rescue from impending ruin, andthey all knew it was the Sunchild who had promised the King that he wouldmake the air-god send it. So abundantly, you will remember, did it come, that we had to pray to him to stop it, which in his own good time he waspleased to do. "

"I remember, " said my father, who was at last able to edge in a word, "that it nearly flooded me out of house and home. And yet, in spite ofall this, I hear that there are many at Bridgeford who are still hardenedunbelievers. "

"Alas! you speak too truly. Bridgeford and the Musical Banks for thefirst three years fought tooth and nail to blind those whom it was theirfirst duty to enlighten. I was a Professor of the hypothetical language, and you may perhaps remember how I was driven from my chair on account ofthe fearlessness with which I expounded the deeper mysteries ofSunchildism. "

"Yes, I remember well how cruelly--" but my father was not allowed to getbeyond "cruelly. "

"It was I who explained why the Sunchild had represented himself asbelonging to a people in many respects analogous to our own, when no suchpeople can have existed. It was I who detected that the supposed nationspoken of by the Sunchild was an invention designed in order to give usinstruction by the light of which we might more easily remodel ourinstitutions. I have sometimes thought that my gift of interpretationwas vouchsafed to me in recognition of the humble services that I washereby allowed to render. By the way, you have received no illuminationthis morning, have you?"

"I never do, sir, when I am in the company of one whose conversation Ifind supremely interesting. But you were telling me about Bridgeford: Ilive hundreds of miles from Bridgeford, and have never understood thesuddenness, and completeness, with which men like Professors Hanky andPanky and Dr. Downie changed front. Do they believe as you and I do, ordid they merely go with the times? I spent a couple of hours with Hankyand Panky only two evenings ago, and was not so much impressed as I couldhave wished with the depth of their religious fervour. "

"They are sincere now--more especially Hanky--but I cannot think I amjudging them harshly, if I say that they were not so at first. Even now, I fear, that they are more carnally than spiritually minded. See howthey have fought for the aggrandisement of their own order. It is mainlytheir doing that the Musical Banks have usurped the spiritual authorityformerly exercised by the straighteners. "

"But the straighteners, " said my father, "could not co-exist withSunchildism, and it is hard to see how the claims of the Banks can bereasonably gainsaid. "

"Perhaps; and after all the Banks are our main bulwark against the evilsthat I fear will follow from the repeal of the laws against machinery. This has already led to the development of a materialism which minimizesthe miraculous element in the Sunchild's ascent, as our own peopleminimize the material means that were the necessary prologue to themiraculous. "

Thus did they converse; but I will not pursue their conversation further. It will be enough to say that in further floods of talk Mr. Balmyconfirmed what George had said about the Banks having lost their holdupon the masses. That hold was weak even in the time of my father'sfirst visit; but when the people saw the hostility of the Banks to amovement which far the greater number of them accepted, it seemed asthough both Bridgeford and the Banks were doomed, for Bridgeford washeart and soul with the Banks. Hanky, it appeared, though under thirty, and not yet a Professor, grasped the situation, and saw that Bridgefordmust either move with the times, or go. He consulted some of the mostsagacious Heads of Houses and Professors, with the result that acommittee of enquiry was appointed, which in due course reported that theevidence for the Sunchild's having been the only child of the sun wasconclusive. It was about this time--that is to say some three yearsafter his ascent--that "Higgsism, " as it had been hitherto called, became"Sunchildism, " and "Higgs" the "Sunchild. "

My father also learned the King's fury at his escape (for he would callit nothing else) with my mother. This was so great that though he hadhitherto been, and had ever since proved himself to be, a humane ruler, he ordered the instant execution of all who had been concerned in makingeither the gas or the balloon; and his cruel orders were carried outwithin a couple of hours. At the same time he ordered the destruction byfire of the Queen's workshops, and of all remnants of any materials usedin making the balloon. It is said the Queen was so much grieved andoutraged (for it was her doing that the material ground-work, so tospeak, had been provided for the miracle) that she wept night and daywithout ceasing three whole months, and never again allowed her husbandto embrace her, till he had also embraced Sunchildism. 

When the rain came, public indignation at the King's action was raisedalmost to revolution pitch, and the King was frightened at once by thearrival of the promised downfall and the displeasure of his subjects. Buthe still held out, and it was only after concessions on the part of theBridgeford committee, that he at last consented to the absorption ofSunchildism into the Musical Bank system, and to its establishment as thereligion of the country. The far-reaching changes in Erewhonianinstitutions with which the reader is already acquainted followed as amatter of course. 

"I know the difficulty, " said my father presently, "with which the Kingwas persuaded to allow the way in which the Sunchild's dress should beworn to be a matter of opinion, not dogma. I see we have adopteddifferent fashions. Have you any decided opinions upon the subject?"

"I have; but I will ask you not to press me for them. Let this matterremain as the King has left it. "

My father thought that he might now venture on a shot. So he said, "Ihave always understood, too, that the King forced the repeal of the lawsagainst machinery on the Bridgeford committee, as another condition ofhis assent?"

"Certainly. He insisted on this, partly to gratify the Queen, who hadnot yet forgiven him, and who had set her heart on having a watch, andpartly because he expected that a development of the country's resources, in consequence of a freer use of machinery, would bring more money intohis exchequer. Bridgeford fought hard and wisely here, but they hadgained so much by the Musical Bank Managers being recognised as theauthorised exponents of Sunchildism, that they thought it wise toyield--apparently with a good grace--and thus gild the pill which hisMajesty was about to swallow. But even then they feared the consequencesthat are already beginning to appear, all which, if I mistake not, willassume far more serious proportions in the future. "

"See, " said my father suddenly, "we are coming to another procession, andthey have got some banners, let us walk a little quicker and overtakeit. "

"Horrible!" replied Mr. Balmy fiercely. "You must be short-sighted, oryou could never have called my attention to it. Let us get it behind usas fast as possible, and not so much as look at it. "

"Oh yes, yes, " said my father, "it is indeed horrible, I had not seenwhat it was. "

He had not the faintest idea what the matter was, but he let Mr. Balmywalk a little ahead of him, so that he could see the banners, the mostimportant of which he found to display a balloon pure and simple, withone figure in the car. True, at the top of the banner there was a smudgewhich might be taken for a little chariot, and some very little horses, but the balloon was the only thing insisted on. As for the procession, it consisted entirely of men, whom a smaller banner announced to beworkmen from the Fairmead iron and steel works. There was a thirdbanner, which said, "Science as well as Sunchildism. "

CHAPTER XV: THE TEMPLE IS DEDICATED TO MY FATHER, AND CERTAIN EXTRACTSARE READ FROM HIS SUPPOSED SAYINGS

"It is enough to break one's heart, " said Mr. Balmy when he hadoutstripped the procession, and my father was again beside him. "'Aswell as, ' indeed! We know what that means. Wherever there is a factorythere is a hot-bed of unbelief. 'As well as'! Why it is a defiance. "

"What, I wonder, " said my father innocently, "must the Sunchild'sfeelings be, as he looks down on this procession. For there can belittle doubt that he is doing so. "

"There can be no doubt at all, " replied Mr. Balmy, "that he is takingnote of it, and of all else that is happening this day in Erewhon. Heavengrant that he be not so angered as to chastise the innocent as well asthe guilty. "

"I doubt, " said my father, "his being so angry even with this procession, as you think he is. "

Here, fearing an outburst of indignation, he found an excuse for rapidlychanging the conversation. Moreover he was angry with himself forplaying upon this poor good creature. He had not done so of maliceprepense; he had begun to deceive him, because he believed himself to bein danger if he spoke the truth; and though he knew the part to be anunworthy one, he could not escape from continuing to play it, if he wasto discover things that he was not likely to discover otherwise. 

Often, however, he had checked himself. It had been on the tip of histongue to be illuminated with the words, Sukoh and Sukop were two pretty men, They lay in bed till the clock struck ten, and to follow it up with, Now with the drops of this most Yknarc time My love looks fresh, in order to see how Mr. Balmy would interpret the assertion here madeabout the Professors, and what statement he would connect with his ownErewhonian name; but he had restrained himself. 

The more he saw, and the more he heard, the more shocked he was at themischief he had done. See how he had unsettled the little mind thispoor, dear, good gentleman had ever had, till he was now a mere slave topreconception. And how many more had he not in like manner brought tothe verge of idiocy? How many again had he not made more corrupt thanthey were before, even though he had not deceived them--as for example, Hanky and Panky. And the young? how could such a lie as that a chariotand four horses came down out of the clouds enter seriously into the lifeof any one, without distorting his mental vision, if not ruining it?

And yet, the more he reflected, the more he also saw that he could do nogood by saying who he was. Matters had gone so far that though he spokewith the tongues of men and angels he would not be listened to; and evenif he were, it might easily prove that he had added harm to that which hehad done already. No. As soon as he had heard Hanky's sermon, he wouldbegin to work his way back, and if the Professors had not yet removedtheir purchase, he would recover it; but he would pin a bag containingabout five pounds worth of nuggets on to the tree in which they hadhidden it, and, if possible, he would find some way of sending the restto George. 

He let Mr. Balmy continue talking, glad that this gentleman requiredlittle more than monosyllabic answers, and still more glad, in spite ofsome agitation, to see that they were now nearing Sunch'ston, towardswhich a great concourse of people was hurrying from Clearwater, and moredistant towns on the main road. Many whole families were coming, --thefathers and mothers carrying the smaller children, and also their ownshoes and stockings, which they would put on when nearing the town. Mostof the pilgrims brought provisions with them. All wore Europeancostumes, but only a few of them wore it reversed, and these were almostinvariably of higher social status than the great body of the people, whowere mainly peasants. 

When they reached the town, my father was relieved at finding that Mr. Balmy had friends on whom he wished to call before going to the temple. He asked my father to come with him, but my father said that he too hadfriends, and would leave him for the present, while hoping to meet himagain later in the day. The two, therefore, shook hands with greateffusion, and went their several ways. My father's way took him firstinto a confectioner's shop, where he bought a couple of Sunchild buns, which he put into his pocket, and refreshed himself with a bottle ofSunchild cordial and water. All shops except those dealing inrefreshments were closed, and the town was gaily decorated with flags andflowers, often festooned into words or emblems proper for the occasion. 

My father, it being now a quarter to eleven, made his way towards thetemple, and his heart was clouded with care as he walked along. Not onlywas his heart clouded, but his brain also was oppressed, and he reeled somuch on leaving the confectioner's shop, that he had to catch hold ofsome railings till the faintness and giddiness left him. He knew thefeeling to be the same as what he had felt on the Friday evening, but hehad no idea of the cause, and as soon as the giddiness left him hethought there was nothing the matter with him. 

Turning down a side street that led into the main square of the town, hefound himself opposite the south end of the temple, with its two loftytowers that flanked the richly decorated main entrance. I will notattempt to describe the architecture, for my father could give me littleinformation on this point. He only saw the south front for two or threeminutes, and was not impressed by it, save in so far as it was richlyornamented--evidently at great expense--and very large. Even if he hadhad a longer look, I doubt whether I should have got more out of him, forhe knew nothing of architecture, and I fear his test whether a buildingwas good or bad, was whether it looked old and weather-beaten or no. Nomatter what a building was, if it was three or four hundred years old heliked it, whereas, if it was new, he would look to nothing but whether itkept the rain out. Indeed I have heard him say that the mediaevalsculpture on some of our great cathedrals often only pleases us becausetime and weather have set their seals upon it, and that if we could seeit as it was when it left the mason's hands, we should find it no betterthan much that is now turned out in the Euston Road. 

The ground plan here given will help the reader to understand the fewfollowing pages more easily. 

 +--------------------+ N / a \ W+E / b \------------+ S / G H \ | | C | N |+-----------+---------------------------+-----------+------+| ------------------- I || ------------------- || ------------------- || o' o' || || E ||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||| F || ||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||| || || e A o' B C o' D | f| --- --- --- --- || --- --- --- --- || --- --- --- --- || --- o' --- --- o' --- || --- --- --- --- || --- --- --- --- || --- --- --- --- || --- o' --- --- o' --- || || || || o' o' || || || g | h| o' o' |+-----------+--------------------------------+-------------+| |--------------------------------| || |-------------M------------------| || K |--------------------------------| L || |--------------------------------| || |--------------------------------| || | | |+-----------+ +-------------+

a. Table with cashier's seat on either side, and alms-box in front. Thepicture is exhibited on a scaffolding behind it. 

b. The reliquary. 

c. The President's chair. 

d. Pulpit and lectern. 

e. }f. } Side doors. G. }h. }

i. Yram's seat. 

k. Seats of George and the Sunchild. 

o' Pillars. 

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, blocks of seats. 

I. Steps leading from the apse to the nave. 

K and L. Towers. 

M. Steps and main entrance. 

N. Robing-room. 

The building was led up to by a flight of steps (M), and on entering itmy father found it to consist of a spacious nave, with two aisles and anapse which was raised some three feet above the nave and aisles. Therewere no transepts. In the apse there was the table (a), with the twobowls of Musical Bank money mentioned on an earlier page, as also thealms-box in front of it. 

At some little distance in front of the table stood the President's chair(c), or I might almost call it throne. It was so placed that his backwould be turned towards the table, which fact again shews that the tablewas not regarded as having any greater sanctity than the rest of thetemple. 

Behind the table, the picture already spoken of was raised aloft. Therewas no balloon; some clouds that hung about the lower part of the chariotserved to conceal the fact that the painter was uncertain whether itought to have wheels or no. The horses were without driver, and myfather thought that some one ought to have had them in hand, for theywere in far too excited a state to be left safely to themselves. Theyhad hardly any harness, but what little there was was enriched with goldbosses. My mother was in Erewhonian costume, my father in European, buthe wore his clothes reversed. Both he and my mother seemed to be bowinggraciously to an unseen crowd beneath them, and in the distance, near thebottom of the picture, was a fairly accurate representation of theSunch'ston new temple. High up, on the right hand, was a disc, raisedand gilt, to represent the sun; on it, in low relief, there was anindication of a gorgeous palace, in which, no doubt, the sun was supposedto live; though how they made it all out my father could not conceive. 

On the right of the table there was a reliquary (b) of glass, muchadorned with gold, or more probably gilding, for gold was so scarce inErewhon that gilding would be as expensive as a thin plate of gold wouldbe in Europe: but there is no knowing. The reliquary was attached to aportable stand some five feet high, and inside it was the relic alreadyreferred to. The crowd was so great that my father could not get nearenough to see what it contained, but I may say here, that when, two dayslater, circumstances compelled him to have a close look at it, he sawthat it consisted of about a dozen fine coprolites, deposited by someantediluvian creature or creatures, which, whatever else they may havebeen, were certainly not horses. 

In the apse there were a few cross benches (G and H) on either side, withan open space between them, which was partly occupied by the President'sseat already mentioned. Those on the right, as one looked towards theapse, were for the Managers and Cashiers of the Bank, while those on theleft were for their wives and daughters. 

In the centre of the nave, only a few feet in front of the steps leadingto the apse, was a handsome pulpit and lectern (d). The pulpit wasraised some feet above the ground, and was so roomy that the preachercould walk about in it. On either side of it there were cross bencheswith backs (E and F); those on the right were reserved for the Mayor, civic functionaries, and distinguished visitors, while those on the leftwere for their wives and daughters. 

Benches with backs (A, B, C, D) were placed about half-way down both naveand aisles--those in the nave being divided so as to allow a free passagebetween them. The rest of the temple was open space, about which peoplemight walk at their will. There were side doors (_e_, _j_, and _f_, _h_)at the upper and lower end of each aisle. Over the main entrance was agallery in which singers were placed. 

As my father was worming his way among the crowd, which was now verydense, he was startled at finding himself tapped lightly on the shoulder, and turning round in alarm was confronted by the beaming face of George. 

"How do you do, Professor Panky?" said the youth--who had decided thus toaddress him. "What are you doing here among the common people? Why haveyou not taken your place in one of the seats reserved for ourdistinguished visitors? I am afraid they must be all full by this time, but I will see what I can do for you. Come with me. "

"Thank you, " said my father. His heart beat so fast that this was all hecould say, and he followed meek as a lamb. 

With some difficulty the two made their way to the right-hand cornerseats of block C, for every seat in the reserved block was taken. Theplaces which George wanted for my father and for himself were alreadyoccupied by two young men of about eighteen and nineteen, both of themwell-grown, and of prepossessing appearance. My father saw by thetruncheons they carried that they were special constables, but he took nonotice of this, for there were many others scattered about the crowd. George whispered a few words to one of them, and to my father's surprisethey both gave up their seats, which appear on the plan as (_k_). 

It afterwards transpired that these two young men were George's brothers, who by his desire had taken the seats some hours ago, for it was herethat George had determined to place himself and my father if he couldfind him. He chose these places because they would be near enough to lethis mother (who was at i, in the middle of the front row of block E, tothe left of the pulpit) see my father without being so near as toembarrass him; he could also see and be seen by Hanky, and hear everyword of his sermon; but perhaps his chief reason had been the fact thatthey were not far from the side-door at the upper end of the right-handaisle, while there was no barrier to interrupt rapid egress should thisprove necessary. 

It was now high time that they should sit down, which they accordinglydid. George sat at the end of the bench, and thus had my father on hisleft. My father was rather uncomfortable at seeing the young men whomthey had turned out, standing against a column close by, but George saidthat this was how it was to be, and there was nothing to be done but tosubmit. The young men seemed quite happy, which puzzled my father, whoof course had no idea that their action was preconcerted. 

Panky was in the first row of block F, so that my father could not seehis face except sometimes when he turned round. He was sitting on theMayor's right hand, while Dr. Downie was on his left; he looked at myfather once or twice in a puzzled way, as though he ought to have knownhim, but my father did not think he recognised him. Hanky was still withPresident Gurgoyle and others in the robing-room, N; Yram had alreadytaken her seat: my father knew her in a moment, though he pretended notto do so when George pointed her out to him. Their eyes met for asecond; Yram turned hers quickly away, and my father could not see atrace of recognition in her face. At no time during the whole ceremonydid he catch her looking at him again. 

"Why, you stupid man, " she said to him later on in the day with a quick, kindly smile, "I was looking at you all the time. As soon as thePresident or Hanky began to talk about you I knew you would stare at him, and then I could look. As soon as they left off talking about you I knewyou would be looking at me, unless you went to sleep--and as I did notknow which you might be doing, I waited till they began to talk about youagain. "

My father had hardly taken note of his surroundings when the choir begansinging, accompanied by a few feeble flutes and lutes, or whatever thename of the instrument should be, but with no violins, for he knewnothing of the violin, and had not been able to teach the Erewhoniansanything about it. The voices were all in unison, and the tune they sangwas one which my father had taught Yram to sing; but he could not catchthe words. 

As soon as the singing began, a procession, headed by the venerable Dr. Gurgoyle, President of the Musical Banks of the province, began to issuefrom the robing-room, and move towards the middle of the apse. ThePresident was sumptuously dressed, but he wore no mitre, nor anything tosuggest an English or European Bishop. The Vice-President, Head Manager, Vice-Manager, and some Cashiers of the Bank, now ranged themselves oneither side of him, and formed an impressive group as they stood, gorgeously arrayed, at the top of the steps leading from the apse to thenave. Here they waited till the singers left off singing. 

When the litany, or hymn, or whatever it should be called, was over, theHead Manager left the President's side and came down to the lectern inthe nave, where he announced himself as about to read some passages fromthe Sunchild's Sayings. Perhaps because it was the first day of the yearaccording to their new calendar, the reading began with the firstchapter, the whole of which was read. My father told me that he quitewell remembered having said the last verse, which he still held as true;hardly a word of the rest was ever spoken by him, though he recognisedhis own influence in almost all of it. The reader paused, with goodeffect, for about five seconds between each paragraph, and read slowlyand very clearly. The chapter was as follows:-

 These are the words of the Sunchild about God and man. He said--

 1. God is the baseless basis of all thoughts, things, and deeds. 

 2. So that those who say that there is a God, lie, unless they also mean that there is no God; and those who say that there is no God, lie, unless they also mean that there is a God. 

 3. It is very true to say that man is made after the likeness of God; and yet it is very untrue to say this. 

 4. God lives and moves in every atom throughout the universe. Therefore it is wrong to think of Him as 'Him' and 'He, ' save as by the clutching of a drowning man at a straw. 

 5. God is God to us only so long as we cannot see Him. When we are near to seeing Him He vanishes, and we behold Nature in His stead. 

 6. We approach Him most nearly when we think of Him as our expression for Man's highest conception, of goodness, wisdom, and power. But we cannot rise to Him above the level of our own highest selves. 

 7. We remove ourselves most far from Him when we invest Him with human form and attributes. 

 8. My father the sun, the earth, the moon, and all planets that roll round my father, are to God but as a single cell in our bodies to ourselves. 

 9. He is as much above my father, as my father is above men and women. 

 10. The universe is instinct with the mind of God. The mind of God is in all that has mind throughout all worlds. There is no God but the Universe, and man, in this world is His prophet. 

 11. God's conscious life, nascent, so far as this world is concerned, in the infusoria, adolescent in the higher mammals, approaches maturity on this earth in man. All these living beings are members one of another, and of God. 

 12. Therefore, as man cannot live without God in the world, so neither can God live in this world without mankind. 

 13. If we speak ill of God in our ignorance it may be forgiven us; but if we speak ill of His Holy Spirit indwelling in good men and women it may not be forgiven us. 

The Head Manager now resumed his place by President Gurgoyle's side, andthe President in the name of his Majesty the King declared the temple tobe hereby dedicated to the contemplation of the Sunchild and the betterexposition of his teaching. This was all that was said. The reliquarywas then brought forward and placed at the top of the steps leading fromthe apse to the nave; but the original intention of carrying it round thetemple was abandoned for fear of accidents through the pressure round itof the enormous multitudes who were assembled. More singing followed ofa simple but impressive kind; during this I am afraid I must own that myfather, tired with his walk, dropped off into a refreshing slumber, fromwhich he did not wake till George nudged him and told him not to snore, just as the Vice-Manager was going towards the lectern to read anotherchapter of the Sunchild's Sayings--which was as follows:-

 The Sunchild also spoke to us a parable about the unwisdom of the children yet unborn, who though they know so much, yet do not know as much as they think they do. 

 He said:-

 "The unborn have knowledge of one another so long as they are unborn, and this without impediment from walls or material obstacles. The unborn children in any city form a population apart, who talk with one another and tell each other about their developmental progress. 

 "They have no knowledge, and cannot even conceive the existence of anything that is not such as they are themselves. Those who have been born are to them what the dead are to us. They can see no life in them, and know no more about them than they do of any stage in their own past development other than the one through which they are passing at the moment. They do not even know that their mothers are alive--much less that their mothers were once as they now are. To an embryo, its mother is simply the environment, and is looked upon much as our inorganic surroundings are by ourselves. 

 "The great terror of their lives is the fear of birth, --that they shall have to leave the only thing that they can think of as life, and enter upon a dark unknown which is to them tantamount to annihilation. 

 "Some, indeed, among them have maintained that birth is not the death which they commonly deem it, but that there is a life beyond the womb of which they as yet know nothing, and which is a million fold more truly life than anything they have yet been able even to imagine. But the greater number shake their yet unfashioned heads and say they have no evidence for this that will stand a moment's examination. 

 "'Nay, ' answer the others, 'so much work, so elaborate, so wondrous as that whereon we are now so busily engaged must have a purpose, though the purpose is beyond our grasp. '

 "'Never, ' reply the first speakers; 'our pleasure in the work is sufficient justification for it. Who has ever partaken of this life you speak of, and re-entered into the womb to tell us of it? Granted that some few have pretended to have done this, but how completely have their stories broken down when subjected to the tests of sober criticism. No. When we are born we are born, and there is an end of us. '

 "But in the hour of birth, when they can no longer re-enter the womb and tell the others, Behold! they find that it is not so. "

Here the reader again closed his book and resumed his place in the apse. 

CHAPTER XVI: PROFESSOR HANKY PREACHES A SERMON, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MYFATHER DECLARES HIMSELF TO BE THE SUNCHILD

Professor Hanky then went up into the pulpit, richly but soberly robed investments the exact nature of which I cannot determine. His carriage wasdignified, and the harsh lines on his face gave it a strongindividuality, which, though it did not attract, conveyed an impressionof power that could not fail to interest. As soon as he had givenattention time to fix itself upon him, he began his sermon without textor preliminary matter of any kind, and apparently without notes. 

He spoke clearly and very quietly, especially at the beginning; he usedaction whenever it could point his meaning, or give it life and colour, but there was no approach to staginess or even oratorical display. Infact, he spoke as one who meant what he was saying, and desired that hishearers should accept his meaning, fully confident in his good faith. Hisuse of pause was effective. After the word "mistake, " at the end of theopening sentence, he held up his half-bent hand and paused for full threeseconds, looking intently at his audience as he did so. Every one feltthe idea to be here enounced that was to dominate the sermon. 

The sermon--so much of it as I can find room for--was as follows:-

"My friends, let there be no mistake. At such a time, as this, it iswell we should look back upon the path by which we have travelled, andforward to the goal towards which we are tending. As it was necessarythat the material foundations of this building should be so sure thatthere shall be no subsidence in the superstructure, so is it not lessnecessary to ensure that there shall be no subsidence in the immaterialstructure that we have raised in consequence of the Sunchild's sojournamong us. Therefore, my friends, I again say, 'Let there be no mistake. 'Each stone that goes towards the uprearing of this visible fane, eachhuman soul that does its part in building the invisible temple of ournational faith, is bearing witness to, and lending its support to, thatwhich is either the truth of truths, or the baseless fabric of a dream. 

"My friends, this is the only possible alternative. He in whose name weare here assembled, is either worthy of more reverential honour than wecan ever pay him, or he is worthy of no more honour than any otherhonourable man among ourselves. There can be no halting between thesetwo opinions. The question of questions is, was he the child of thetutelary god of this world--the sun, and is it to the palace of the sunthat he returned when he left us, or was he, as some amongst us still donot hesitate to maintain, a mere man, escaping by unusual but strictlynatural means to some part of this earth with which we are unacquainted. My friends, either we are on a right path or on a very wrong one, and ina matter of such supreme importance--there must be no mistake. 

"I need not remind those of you whose privilege it is to live inSunch'ston, of the charm attendant on the Sunchild's personal presenceand conversation, nor of his quick sympathy, his keen intellect, hisreadiness to adapt himself to the capacities of all those who came to seehim while he was in prison. He adored children, and it was on them thatsome of his most conspicuous miracles were performed. Many a time when achild had fallen and hurt itself, was he known to make the place well bysimply kissing it. Nor need I recall to your minds the spotless purityof his life--so spotless that not one breath of slander has ever dared tovisit it. I was one of the not very many who had the privilege of beingadmitted to the inner circle of his friends during the later weeks thathe was amongst us. I loved him dearly, and it will ever be the proudestrecollection of my life that he deigned to return me no small measure ofaffection. "

My father, furious as he was at finding himself dragged into complicitywith this man's imposture, could not resist a smile at the effronterywith which he lowered his tone here, and appeared unwilling to dwell onan incident which he could not recall without being affected almost totears, and mere allusion to which, had involved an apparent self-displaythat was above all things repugnant to him. What a difference betweenthe Hanky of Thursday evening with its "never set eyes on him and hope Inever shall, " and the Hanky of Sunday morning, who now looked as modestas Cleopatra might have done had she been standing godmother to a littleblue-eyed girl--Bellerophon's first-born baby. 

Having recovered from his natural, but promptly repressed, emotion, theProfessor continued:-

"I need not remind you of the purpose for which so many of us, from somany parts of our kingdom, are here assembled. We know what we have comehither to do: we are come each one of us to sign and seal by his presencethe bond of his assent to those momentous changes, which have found theirfirst great material expression in the temple that you see around you. 

"You all know how, in accordance with the expressed will of the Sunchild, the Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the Musical Banks began as soon ashe had left us to examine, patiently, carefully, earnestly, and withoutbias of any kind, firstly the evidences in support of the Sunchild'sclaim to be the son of the tutelar deity of this world, and secondly theprecise nature of his instructions as regards the future position andauthority of the Musical Banks. 

"My friends, it is easy to understand why the Sunchild should have givenus these instructions. With that foresight which is the specialcharacteristic of divine, as compared with human, wisdom, he desired thatthe evidences in support of his superhuman character should be collected, sifted, and placed on record, before anything was either lost through thedeath of those who could alone substantiate it, or unduly suppliedthrough the enthusiasm of over-zealous visionaries. The greater any truemiracle has been, the more certainly will false ones accrete round it;here, then, we find the explanation of the command the Sunchild gave tous to gather, verify, and record, the facts of his sojourn here inErewhon. For above all things he held it necessary to ensure that thereshould be neither mistake, nor even possibility of mistake. 

"Consider for a moment what differences of opinion would infallibly havearisen, if the evidences for the miraculous character of the Sunchild'smission had been conflicting--if they had rested on versions eachclaiming to be equally authoritative, but each hopelessly irreconcilableon vital points with every single other. What would future generationshave said in answer to those who bade them fling all human experience tothe winds, on the strength of records written they knew not certainly bywhom, nor how long after the marvels that they recorded, and of which allthat could be certainly said was that no two of them told the same story?

"Who that believes either in God or man--who with any self-respect, orrespect for the gift of reason with which God had endowed him, eitherwould, or could, believe that a chariot and four horses had come downfrom heaven, and gone back again with human or quasi-human occupants, unless the evidences for the fact left no loophole for escape? If asingle loophole were left him, he would be unpardonable, not fordisbelieving the story, but for believing it. The sin against God wouldlie not in want of faith, but in faith. 

"My friends, there are two sins in matters of belief. There is that ofbelieving on too little evidence, and that of requiring too much beforewe are convinced. The guilt of the latter is incurred, alas! by not afew amongst us at the present day, but if the testimony to the truth ofthe wondrous event so faithfully depicted on the picture that confrontsyou had been less contemporaneous, less authoritative, less unanimous, future generations--and it is for them that we should now provide--wouldbe guilty of the first-named, and not less heinous sin if they believedat all. 

"Small wonder, then, that the Sunchild, having come amongst us for ouradvantage, not his own, would not permit his beneficent designs to beendangered by the discrepancies, mythical developments, idiosyncracies, and a hundred other defects inevitably attendant on amateur andirresponsible recording. Small wonder, then, that he should have chosenthe officials of the Musical Banks, from the Presidents andVice-Presidents downwards to be the authoritative exponents of histeaching, the depositaries of his traditions, and his representativeshere on earth till he shall again see fit to visit us. For he will come. Nay it is even possible that he may be here amongst us at this verymoment, disguised so that none may know him, and intent only on watchingour devotion towards him. If this be so, let me implore him, in the nameof the sun his father, to reveal himself. "

Now Hanky had already given my father more than one look that had madehim uneasy. He had evidently recognised him as the supposed ranger oflast Thursday evening. Twice he had run his eye like a searchlight overthe front benches opposite to him, and when the beam had reached myfather there had been no more searching. It was beginning to dawn uponmy father that George might have discovered that he was not ProfessorPanky; was it for this reason that these two young special constables, though they gave up their places, still kept so close to him? Was Georgeonly waiting his opportunity to arrest him--not of course even suspectingwho he was--but as a foreign devil who had tried to pass himself off asProfessor Panky? Had this been the meaning of his having followed him toFairmead? And should he have to be thrown into the Blue Pool by Georgeafter all? "It would serve me, " said he to himself, "richly right. "

These fears which had been taking shape for some few minutes were turnedalmost to certainties by the half-contemptuous glance Hanky threw towardshim as he uttered what was obviously intended as a challenge. He sawthat all was over, and was starting to his feet to declare himself, andthus fall into the trap that Hanky was laying for him, when Georgegripped him tightly by the knee and whispered, "Don't--you are in greatdanger. " And he smiled kindly as he spoke. 

My father sank back dumbfounded. "You know me?" he whispered in reply. 

"Perfectly. So does Hanky, so does my mother; say no more, " and he againsmiled. 

George, as my father afterwards learned, had hoped that he would revealhimself, and had determined in spite of his mother's instructions, togive him an opportunity of doing so. It was for this reason that he hadnot arrested him quietly, as he could very well have done, before theservice began. He wished to discover what manner of man his father was, and was quite happy as soon as he saw that he would have spoken out if hehad not been checked. He had not yet caught Hanky's motive in trying togoad my father, but on seeing that he was trying to do this, he knew thata trap was being laid, and that my father must not be allowed to speak. 

Almost immediately, however, he perceived that while his eyes had beenturned on Hanky, two burly vergers had wormed their way through the crowdand taken their stand close to his two brothers. Then he understood, andunderstood also how to frustrate. 

As for my father, George's ascendancy over him--quite felt by George--wasso absolute that he could think of nothing now but the exceeding greatjoy of finding his fears groundless, and of delivering himself up to hisson's guidance in the assurance that the void in his heart was filled, and that his wager not only would be held as won, but was being alreadypaid. How they had found out, why he was not to speak as he wouldassuredly have done--for he was in a white heat of fury--what did it allmatter now that he had found that which he had feared he should fail tofind? He gave George a puzzled smile, and composed himself as best hecould to hear the continuation of Hanky's sermon, which was as follows:-

"Who could the Sunchild have chosen, even though he had been gifted withno more than human sagacity, but the body of men whom he selected? Itbecomes me but ill to speak so warmly in favour of that body of whom I amthe least worthy member, but what other is there in Erewhon so above allsuspicion of slovenliness, self-seeking, preconceived bias, or bad faith?If there was one set of qualities more essential than another for theconduct of the investigations entrusted to us by the Sunchild, it wasthose that turn on meekness and freedom from all spiritual pride. Ibelieve I can say quite truly that these are the qualities for whichBridgeford is more especially renowned. The readiness of her Professorsto learn even from those who at first sight may seem least able toinstruct them--the gentleness with which they correct an opponent if theyfeel it incumbent upon them to do so, the promptitude with which theyacknowledge error when it is pointed out to them and quit a position nomatter how deeply they have been committed to it, at the first moment inwhich they see that they cannot hold it righteously, their delicate senseof honour, their utter immunity from what the Sunchild used to call log-rolling or intrigue, the scorn with which they regard anything likehitting below the belt--these I believe I may truly say are the virtuesfor which Bridgeford is pre-eminently renowned. "

The Professor went on to say a great deal more about the fitness ofBridgeford and the Musical Bank managers for the task imposed on them bythe Sunchild, but here my father's attention flagged--nor, on looking atthe verbatim report of the sermon that appeared next morning in theleading Sunch'ston journal, do I see reason to reproduce Hanky's words onthis head. It was all to shew that there had been no possibility ofmistake. 

Meanwhile George was writing on a scrap of paper as though he was takingnotes of the sermon. Presently he slipped this into my father's hand. Itran:-

"You see those vergers standing near my brothers, who gave up their seatsto us. Hanky tried to goad you into speaking that they might arrest you, and get you into the Bank prisons. If you fall into their hands you arelost. I must arrest you instantly on a charge of poaching on the King'spreserves, and make you my prisoner. Let those vergers catch sight ofthe warrant which I shall now give you. Read it and return it to me. Come with me quietly after service. I think you had better not revealyourself at all. "

As soon as he had given my father time to read the foregoing, George tooka warrant out of his pocket. My father pretended to read it and returnedit. George then laid his hand on his shoulder, and in an undertonearrested him. He then wrote on another scrap of paper and passed it onto the elder of his two brothers. It was to the effect that he had nowarrested my father, and that if the vergers attempted in any way tointerfere between him and his prisoner, his brothers were to arrest bothof them, which, as special constables, they had power to do. 

Yram had noted Hanky's attempt to goad my father, and had not beenprepared for his stealing a march upon her by trying to get my fatherarrested by Musical Bank officials, rather than by her son. On thepreceding evening this last plan had been arranged on; and she knewnothing of the note that Hanky had sent an hour or two later to theManager of the temple--the substance of which the reader can sufficientlyguess. When she had heard Hanky's words and saw the vergers, she was fora few minutes seriously alarmed, but she was reassured when she sawGeorge give my father the warrant, and her two sons evidently explainingthe position to the vergers. 

Hanky had by this time changed his theme, and was warning his hearers ofthe dangers that would follow on the legalization of the medicalprofession, and the repeal of the edicts against machines. Space forbidsme to give his picture of the horrible tortures that future generationswould be put to by medical men, if these were not duly kept in check bythe influence of the Musical Banks; the horrors of the inquisition in themiddle ages are nothing to what he depicted as certain to ensue ifmedical men were ever to have much money at their command. The onlypeople in whose hands money might be trusted safely were those whopresided over the Musical Banks. This tirade was followed by one notless alarming about the growth of materialistic tendencies among theartisans employed in the production of mechanical inventions. My father, though his eyes had been somewhat opened by the second of the twoprocessions he had seen on his way to Sunch'ston, was not prepared tofind that in spite of the superficially almost universal acceptance ofthe new faith, there was a powerful, and it would seem growing, undercurrent of scepticism, with a desire to reduce his escape with mymother to a purely natural occurence. 

"It is not enough, " said Hanky, "that the Sunchild should have ensuredthe preparation of authoritative evidence of his supernatural character. The evidences happily exist in overwhelming strength, but they must bebrought home to minds that as yet have stubbornly refused to receivethem. During the last five years there has been an enormous increase inthe number of those whose occupation in the manufacture of machinesinclines them to a materialistic explanation even of the most obviouslymiraculous events, and the growth of this class in our midst constituted, and still constitutes, a grave danger to the state. 

"It was to meet this that the society was formed on behalf of which Iappeal fearlessly to your generosity. It is called, as most of youdoubtless know, the Sunchild Evidence Society; and his Majesty the Kinggraciously consented to become its Patron. This society not onlycollects additional evidences--indeed it is entirely due to its laboursthat the precious relic now in this temple was discovered--but it is itsbeneficent purpose to lay those that have been authoritativelyinvestigated before men who, if left to themselves, would either neglectthem altogether, or worse still reject them. 

"For the first year or two the efforts of the society met with but littlesuccess among those for whose benefit they were more particularlyintended, but during the present year the working classes in some citiesand towns (stimulated very much by the lectures of my illustrious friendProfessor Panky) have shewn a most remarkable and zealous interest inSunchild evidences, and have formed themselves into local branches forthe study and defence of Sunchild truth. 

"Yet in spite of all this need--of all this patient labour and reallyvery gratifying success--the subscriptions to the society no longerfurnish it with its former very modest income--an income which isdeplorably insufficient if the organization is to be kept effective, andthe work adequately performed. In spite of the most rigid economy, thecommittee have been compelled to part with a considerable portion oftheir small reserve fund (provided by a legacy) to tide overdifficulties. But this method of balancing expenditure and income isvery unsatisfactory, and cannot be long continued. 

"I am led to plead for the society with especial insistence at thepresent time, inasmuch as more than one of those whose unblemished lifehas made them fitting recipients of such a signal favour, have recentlyhad visions informing them that the Sunchild will again shortly visit us. We know not when he will come, but when he comes, my friends, let him notfind us unmindful of, nor ungrateful for, the inestimable services he hasrendered us. For come he surely will. Either in winter, what timeicicles hang by the wall and milk comes frozen home in the pail--or insummer when days are at their longest and the mowing grass is about--therewill be an hour, either at morn, or eve, or in the middle day, when hewill again surely come. May it be mine to be among those who are thenpresent to receive him. "

Here he again glared at my father, whose blood was boiling. George hadnot positively forbidden him to speak out; he therefore sprang to hisfeet, "You lying hound, " he cried, "I am the Sunchild, and you know it. "

George, who knew that he had my father in his own hands, made no attemptto stop him, and was delighted that he should have declared himselfthough he had felt it his duty to tell him not to do so. Yram turnedpale. Hanky roared out, "Tear him in pieces--leave not a single limb onhis body. Take him out and burn him alive. " The vergers made a dash forhim--but George's brothers seized them. The crowd seemed for a momentinclined to do as Hanky bade them, but Yram rose from her place, and heldup her hand as one who claimed attention. She advanced towards Georgeand my father as unconcernedly as though she were merely walking out ofchurch, but she still held her hand uplifted. All eyes were turned onher, as well as on George and my father, and the icy calm of her self-possession chilled those who were inclined for the moment to take Hanky'swords literally. There was not a trace of fluster in her gait, action, or words, as she said--

"My friends, this temple, and this day, must not be profaned with blood. My son will take this poor madman to the prison. Let him be judged andpunished according to law. Make room, that he and my son may pass. "

Then, turning to my father, she said, "Go quietly with the Ranger. "

Having so spoken, she returned to her seat as unconcernedly as she hadleft it. 

Hanky for a time continued to foam at the mouth and roar out, "Tear himto pieces! burn him alive!" but when he saw that there was no furtherhope of getting the people to obey him, he collapsed on to a seat in hispulpit, mopped his bald head, and consoled himself with a great pinch ofa powder which corresponds very closely to our own snuff. 

George led my father out by the side door at the north end of the westernaisle; the people eyed him intently, but made way for him withoutdemonstration. One voice alone was heard to cry out, "Yes, he is theSunchild!" My father glanced at the speaker, and saw that he was theinterpreter who had taught him the Erewhonian language when he was inprison. 

George, seeing a special constable close by, told him to bid his brothersrelease the vergers, and let them arrest the interpreter--this thevergers, foiled as they had been in the matter of my father's arrest, were very glad to do. So the poor interpreter, to his dismay, was lodgedat once in one of the Bank prison-cells, where he could do no furtherharm. 

CHAPTER XVII: GEORGE TAKES HIS FATHER TO PRISON, AND THERE OBTAINS SOMEUSEFUL INFORMATION

By this time George had got my father into the open square, where he wassurprised to find that a large bonfire had been made and lighted. Therehad been nothing of the kind an hour before; the wood, therefore, musthave been piled and lighted while people had been in church. He had notime at the moment to enquire why this had been done, but later on hediscovered that on the Sunday morning the Manager of the new temple hadobtained leave from the Mayor to have the wood piled in the square, representing that this was Professor Hanky's contribution to thefestivities of the day. There had, it seemed, been no intention oflighting it until nightfall; but it had accidentally caught fire throughthe carelessness of a workman, much about the time when Hanky began topreach. No one for a moment believed that there had been any sinisterintention, or that Professor Hanky when he urged the crowd to burn myfather alive, even knew that there was a pile of wood in the square atall--much less that it had been lighted--for he could hardly havesupposed that the wood had been got together so soon. Nevertheless bothGeorge and my father, when they knew all that had passed, congratulatedthemselves on the fact that my father had not fallen into the hands ofthe vergers, who would probably have tried to utilise the accidentalfire, though in no case is it likely they would have succeeded. 

As soon as they were inside the gaol, the old Master recognised myfather. "Bless my heart--what? You here, again, Mr. Higgs? Why, Ithought you were in the palace of the sun your father. "

"I wish I was, " answered my father, shaking hands with him, but he couldsay no more. 

"You are as safe here as if you were, " said George laughing, "and safer. "Then turning to his grandfather, he said, "You have the record of Mr. Higgs's marks and measurements? I know you have: take him to his oldcell; it is the best in the prison; and then please bring me the record. "

The old man took George and my father to the cell which he had occupiedtwenty years earlier--but I cannot stay to describe his feelings onfinding himself again within it. The moment his grandfather's back wasturned, George said to my father, "And now shake hands also with yourson. "

As he spoke he took my father's hand and pressed it warmly between bothhis own. 

"Then you know you are my son, " said my father as steadily as the strongemotion that mastered him would permit. 

"Certainly. "

"But you did not know this when I was walking with you on Friday?"

"Of course not. I thought you were Professor Panky; if I had not takenyou for one of the two persons named in your permit, I should havequestioned you closely, and probably ended by throwing you into the BluePool. " He shuddered as he said this. 

"But you knew who I was when you called me Panky in the temple?"

"Quite so. My mother told me everything on Friday evening. "

"And that is why you tried to find me at Fairmead?"

"Yes, but where in the world were you?"

"I was inside the Musical Bank of the town, resting and reading. "

George laughed, and said, "On purpose to hide?"

"Oh no; pure chance. But on Friday evening? How could your mother havefound out by that time that I was in Erewhon? Am I on my head or myheels?"

"On your heels, my father, which shall take you back to your own countryas soon as we can get you out of this. "

"What have I done to deserve so much goodwill? I have done you nothingbut harm?" Again he was quite overcome. 

George patted him gently on the hand, and said, "You made a bet and youwon it. During the very short time that we can be together, you shall bepaid in full, and may heaven protect us both. "

As soon as my father could speak he said, "But how did your mother findout that I was in Erewhon?"

"Hanky and Panky were dining with her, and they told her some things thatshe thought strange. She cross-questioned them, put two and twotogether, learned that you had got their permit out of them, saw that youintended to return on Friday, and concluded that you would be sleeping inSunch'ston. She sent for me, told me all, bade me scour Sunch'ston tofind you, intending that you should be at once escorted safely over thepreserves by me. I found your inn, but you had given us the slip. Itried first Fairmead and then Clearwater, but did not find you till thismorning. For reasons too long to repeat, my mother warned Hanky andPanky that you would be in the temple; whereon Hanky tried to get youinto his clutches. Happily he failed, but if I had known what he wasdoing I should have arrested you before the service. I ought to havedone this, but I wanted you to win your wager, and I shall get you safelyaway in spite of them. My mother will not like my having let you hearHanky's sermon and declare yourself. "

"You half told me not to say who I was. "

"Yes, but I was delighted when you disobeyed me. "

"I did it very badly. I never rise to great occasions, I always fall tothem, but these things must come as they come. "

"You did it as well as it could be done, and good will come of it. "

"And now, " he continued, "describe exactly all that passed between youand the Professors. On which side of Panky did Hanky sit, and did theysit north and south or east and west? How did you get--oh yes, I knowthat--you told them it would be of no further use to them. Tell me allelse you can. "

My father said that the Professors were sitting pretty well east andwest, so that Hanky, who was on the east side, nearest the mountains, hadPanky, who was on the Sunch'ston side, on his right hand. George made anote of this. My father then told what the reader already knows, butwhen he came to the measurement of the boots, George said, "Take yourboots off, " and began taking off his own. "Foot for foot, " said he, "weare not father and son, but brothers. Yours will fit me; they are lessworn than mine, but I daresay you will not mind that. "

On this George _ex abundanti cautela_ knocked a nail out of the rightboot that he had been wearing and changed boots with my father; but hethought it more plausible not to knock out exactly the same nail that wasmissing on my father's boot. When the change was made, each found--orsaid he found--the other's boots quite comfortable. 

My father all the time felt as though he were a basket given to a dog. The dog had got him, was proud of him, and no one must try to take himaway. The promptitude with which George took to him, the obviouspleasure he had in "running" him, his quick judgement, verging as itshould towards rashness, his confidence that my father trusted himwithout reserve, the conviction of perfect openness that was conveyed bythe way in which his eyes never budged from my father's when he spoke tohim, his genial, kindly, manner, perfect physical health, and the air hehad of being on the best possible terms with himself and every oneelse--the combination of all this so overmastered my poor father (whoindeed had been sufficiently mastered before he had been five minutes inGeorge's company) that he resigned himself as gratefully to being abasket, as George had cheerfully undertaken the task of carrying him. 

In passing I may say that George could never get his own boots backagain, though he tried more than once to do so. My father always madesome excuse. They were the only memento of George that he brought homewith him; I wonder that he did not ask for a lock of his hair, but he didnot. He had the boots put against a wall in his bedroom, where he couldsee them from his bed, and during his illness, while consciousness yetremained with him, I saw his eyes continually turn towards them. George, in fact, dominated him as long as anything in this world could do so. Nordo I wonder; on the contrary, I love his memory the better; for I too, aswill appear later, have seen George, and whatever little jealousy I mayhave felt, vanished on my finding him almost instantaneously gain thesame ascendancy over me his brother, that he had gained over his and myfather. But of this no more at present. Let me return to the gaol inSunch'ston. 

"Tell me more, " said George, "about the Professors. "

My father told him about the nuggets, the sale of his kit, the receipt hehad given for the money, and how he had got the nuggets back from a tree, the position of which he described. 

"I know the tree; have you got the nuggets here?"

"Here they are, with the receipt, and the pocket handkerchief marked withHanky's name. The pocket handkerchief was found wrapped round some driedleaves that we call tea, but I have not got these with me. " As he spokehe gave everything to George, who showed the utmost delight in gettingpossession of them. 

"I suppose the blanket and the rest of the kit are still in the tree?"

"Unless Hanky and Panky have got them away, or some one has found them. "

"This is not likely. I will now go to my office, but I will come backvery shortly. My grandfather shall bring you something to eat at once. Iwill tell him to send enough for two"--which he accordingly did. 

On reaching the office, he told his next brother (whom he had made anunder-ranger) to go to the tree he described, and bring back the bundlehe should find concealed therein. "You can go there and back, " he said, "in an hour and a half, and I shall want the bundle by that time. "

The brother, whose name I never rightly caught, set out at once. As soonas he was gone, George took from a drawer the feathers and bones ofquails, that he had shown my father on the morning when he met him. Hedivided them in half, and made them into two bundles, one of which hedocketed, "Bones of quails eaten, XIX. Xii. 29, by Professor Hanky, P. O. W. W. , &c. " And he labelled Panky's quail bones in like fashion. 

Having done this, he returned to the gaol, but on his way he looked in atthe Mayor's, and left a note saying that he should be at the gaol, whereany message would reach him, but that he did not wish to meet ProfessorsHanky and Panky for another couple of hours. It was now about half-pasttwelve, and he caught sight of a crowd coming quietly out of the temple, whereby he knew that Hanky would soon be at the Mayor's house. 

Dinner was brought in almost at the moment when George returned to thegaol. As soon as it was over George said:-

"Are you quite sure you have made no mistake about the way in which yougot the permit out of the Professors?"

"Quite sure. I told them they would not want it, and said I could savethem trouble if they gave it me. They never suspected why I wanted it. Where do you think I may be mistaken?"

"You sold your nuggets for rather less than a twentieth part of theirvalue, and you threw in some curiosities, that would have fetched abouthalf as much as you got for the nuggets. You say you did this becauseyou wanted money to keep you going till you could sell some of yournuggets. This sounds well at first, but the sacrifice is too great to beplausible when considered. It looks more like a case of good honestmanly straightforward corruption. "

"But surely you believe me?"

"Of course I do. I believe every syllable that comes from your mouth, but I shall not be able to make out that the story was as it was not, unless I am quite certain what it really was. "

"It was exactly as I have told you. "

"That is enough. And now, may I tell my mother that you will putyourself in her, and the Mayor's, and my, hands, and will do whatever wetell you?"

"I will be obedience itself--but you will not ask me to do anything thatwill make your mother or you think less well of me?"

"If we tell you what you are to do, we shall not think any the worse ofyou for doing it. Then I may say to my mother that you will be good andgive no trouble--not even though we bid you shake hands with Hanky andPanky?"

"I will embrace them and kiss them on both cheeks, if you and she tell meto do so. But what about the Mayor?"

"He has known everything, and condoned everything, these last twentyyears. He will leave everything to my mother and me. "

"Shall I have to see him?"

"Certainly. You must be brought up before him to-morrow morning. "

"How can I look him in the face?"

"As you would me, or any one else. It is understood among us thatnothing happened. Things may have looked as though they had happened, but they did not happen. "

"And you are not yet quite twenty?"

"No, but I am son to my mother--and, " he added, "to one who can stretch apoint or two in the way of honesty as well as other people. "

Having said this with a laugh, he again took my father's hand betweenboth his, and went back to his office--where he set himself to think outthe course he intended to take when dealing with the Professors. 

CHAPTER XVIII: YRAM INVITES DR. DOWNIE AND MRS. HUMDRUM TO LUNCHEON--APASSAGE AT ARMS BETWEEN HER AND HANKY IS AMICABLY ARRANGED

The disturbance caused by my father's outbreak was quickly suppressed, for George got him out of the temple almost immediately; it was bruitedabout, however, that the Sunchild had come down from the palace of thesun, but had disappeared as soon as any one had tried to touch him. Invain did Hanky try to put fresh life into his sermon; its back had beenbroken, and large numbers left the church to see what they could hearoutside, or failing information, to discourse more freely with oneanother. 

Hanky did his best to quiet his hearers when he found that he could notinfuriate them, --

"This poor man, " he said, "is already known to me, as one of those whohave deluded themselves into believing that they are the Sunchild. Ihave known of his so declaring himself, more than once, in theneighbourhood of Bridgeford, and others have not infrequently done thesame; I did not at first recognize him, and regret that the shock ofhorror his words occasioned me should have prompted me to suggestviolence against him. Let this unfortunate affair pass from your minds, and let me again urge upon you the claims of the Sunchild EvidenceSociety. "

The audience on hearing that they were to be told more about the SunchildEvidence Society melted away even more rapidly than before, and thesermon fizzled out to an ignominious end quite unworthy of its occasion. 

About half-past twelve, the service ended, and Hanky went to the robing-room to take off his vestments. Yram, the Mayor, and Panky, waited forhim at the door opposite to that through which my father had been taken;while waiting, Yram scribbled off two notes in pencil, one to Dr. Downie, and another to Mrs. Humdrum, begging them to come to lunch at once--forit would be one o'clock before they could reach the Mayor's. She gavethese notes to the Mayor, and bade him bring both the invited guestsalong with him. 

The Mayor left just as Hanky was coming towards her. "This, Mayoress, "he said with some asperity, "is a very serious business. It has ruinedmy collection. Half the people left the temple without giving anythingat all. You seem, " he added in a tone the significance of which couldnot be mistaken, "to be very fond, Mayoress, of this Mr. Higgs. "

"Yes, " said Yram, "I am; I always liked him, and I am sorry for him; buthe is not the person I am most sorry for at this moment--he, poor man, isnot going to be horsewhipped within the next twenty minutes. " And shespoke the "he" in italics. 

"I do not understand you, Mayoress. "

"My husband will explain, as soon as I have seen him. "

"Hanky, " said Panky, "you must withdraw, and apologise at once. "

Hanky was not slow to do this, and when he had disavowed everything, withdrawn everything, apologised for everything, and eaten humble pie toYram's satisfaction, she smiled graciously, and held out her hand, whichHanky was obliged to take. 

"And now, Professor, " she said, "let me return to your remark that thisis a very serious business, and let me also claim a woman's privilege ofbeing listened to whenever she chooses to speak. I propose, then, thatwe say nothing further about this matter till after luncheon. I haveasked Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum to join us--"

"Why Mrs. Humdrum?" interrupted Hanky none too pleasantly, for he wasstill furious about the duel that had just taken place between himselfand his hostess. 

"My dear Professor, " said Yram good-humouredly, "pray say all you have tosay and I will continue. "

Hanky was silent. 

"I have asked, " resumed Yram, "Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum to join, us, and after luncheon we can discuss the situation or no as you may thinkproper. Till then let us say no more. Luncheon will be over by twoo'clock or soon after, and the banquet will not begin till seven, so weshall have plenty of time. "

Hanky looked black and said nothing. As for Panky he was morally in astate of collapse, and did not count. 

Hardly had they reached the Mayor's house when the Mayor also arrivedwith Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum, both of whom had seen and recognised myfather in spite of his having dyed his hair. Dr. Downie had met him atsupper in Mr. Thims's rooms when he had visited Bridgeford, and naturallyenough had observed him closely. Mrs. Humdrum, as I have already said, had seen him more than once when he was in prison. She and Dr. Downiewere talking earnestly over the strange reappearance of one whom they hadbelieved long since dead, but Yram imposed on them the same silence thatshe had already imposed on the Professors. 

"Professor Hanky, " said she to Mrs. Humdrum, in Hanky's hearing, "is alittle alarmed at my having asked you to join our secret conclave. He isnot married, and does not know how well a woman can hold her tongue whenshe chooses. I should have told you all that passed, for I mean tofollow your advice, so I thought you had better hear everythingyourself. "

Hanky still looked black, but he said nothing. Luncheon was promptlyserved, and done justice to in spite of much preoccupation; for if thereis one thing that gives a better appetite than another, it is a Sundaymorning's service with a charity sermon to follow. As the guests mightnot talk on the subject they wanted to talk about, and were in no humourto speak of anything else, they gave their whole attention to the goodthings that were before them, without so much as a thought aboutreserving themselves for the evening's banquet. Nevertheless, whenluncheon was over, the Professors were in no more genial, manageable, state of mind than they had been when it began. 

When the servants had left the room, Yram said to Hanky, "You saw theprisoner, and he was the man you met on Thursday night?"

"Certainly, he was wearing the forbidden dress and he had many quails inhis possession. There is no doubt also that he was a foreign devil. "

At this point, it being now nearly half-past two, George came in, andtook a seat next to Mrs. Humdrum--between her and his mother--who ofcourse sat at the head of the table with the Mayor opposite to her. Onone side of the table sat the Professors, and on the other Dr. Downie, Mrs. Humdrum, and George, who had heard the last few words that Hanky hadspoken. 

CHAPTER XIX: A COUNCIL IS HELD AT THE MAYOR'S, IN THE COURSE OF WHICHGEORGE TURNS THE TABLES ON THE PROFESSORS

"Now who, " said Yram, "is this unfortunate creature to be, when he isbrought up to-morrow morning, on the charge of poaching?"

"It is not necessary, " said Hanky severely, "that he should be brought upfor poaching. He is a foreign devil, and as such your son is bound tofling him without trial into the Blue Pool. Why bring a smaller chargewhen you must inflict the death penalty on a more serious one? I havealready told you that I shall feel it my duty to report the matter atheadquarters, unless I am satisfied that the death penalty has beeninflicted. "

"Of course, " said George, "we must all of us do our duty, and I shall notshrink from mine--but I have arrested this man on a charge of poaching, and must give my reasons; the case cannot be dropped, and it must beheard in public. Am I, or am I not, to have the sworn depositions ofboth you gentlemen to the fact that the prisoner is the man you saw withquails in his possession? If you can depose to this he will beconvicted, for there can be no doubt he killed the birds himself. Theleast penalty my father can inflict is twelve months' imprisonment withhard labour; and he must undergo this sentence before I can Blue-Poolhim. 

"Then comes the question whether or no he is a foreign devil. I maydecide this in private, but I must have depositions on oath before I doso, and at present I have nothing but hearsay. Perhaps you gentlemen cangive me the evidence I shall require, but the case is one of suchimportance that were the prisoner proved never so clearly to be a foreigndevil, I should not Blue-Pool him till I had taken the King's pleasureconcerning him. I shall rejoice, therefore, if you gentlemen can help meto sustain the charge of poaching, and thus give me legal standing-groundfor deferring action which the King might regret, and which once takencannot be recalled. "

Here Yram interposed. "These points, " she said, "are details. Should wenot first settle, not what, but who, we shall allow the prisoner to be, when he is brought up to-morrow morning? Settle this, and the rest willsettle itself. He has declared himself to be the Sunchild, and willprobably do so again. I am prepared to identify him, so is Dr. Downie, so is Mrs. Humdrum, the interpreter, and doubtless my father. Others ofknown respectability will also do so, and his marks and measurements aresure to correspond quite sufficiently. The question is, whether all thisis to be allowed to appear on evidence, or whether it is to beestablished, as it easily may, if we give our minds to it, that he is notthe Sunchild. "

"Whatever else he is, " said Hanky, "he must not be the Sunchild. Hemust, if the charge of poaching cannot be dropped, be a poacher and aforeign devil. I was doubtless too hasty when I said that I believed Irecognized the man as one who had more than once declared himself to bethe Sunchild--"

"But, Hanky, " interrupted Panky, "are you sure that you can swear to thisman's being the man we met on Thursday night? We only saw him byfirelight, and I doubt whether I should feel justified in swearing tohim. "

"Well, well: on second thoughts I am not sure, Panky, but what you may beright after all; it is possible that he may be what I said he was in mysermon. "

"I rejoice to hear you say so, " said George, "for in this case the chargeof poaching will fall through. There will be no evidence against theprisoner. And I rejoice also to think that I shall have nothing towarrant me in believing him to be a foreign devil. For if he is not tobe the Sunchild, and not to be your poacher, he becomes a meremonomaniac. If he apologises for having made a disturbance in thetemple, and promises not to offend again, a fine, and a few days'imprisonment, will meet the case, and he may be discharged. "

"I see, I see, " said Hanky very angrily. "You are determined to get thisman off if you can. "

"I shall act, " said George, "in accordance with sworn evidence, and nototherwise. Choose whether you will have the prisoner to be your poacheror no: give me your sworn depositions one way or the other, and I shallknow how to act. If you depose on oath to the identity of the prisonerand your poacher, he will be convicted and imprisoned. As to his being aforeign devil, if he is the Sunchild, of course he is one; but otherwiseI cannot Blue-Pool him even when his sentence is expired, withouttestimony deposed to me on oath in private, though no open trial isrequired. A case for suspicion was made out in my hearing last night, but I must have depositions on oath to all the leading facts before I candecide what my duty is. What will you swear to?"

"All this, " said Hanky, in a voice husky with passion, "shall be reportedto the King. "

"I intend to report every word of it; but that is not the point: thequestion is what you gentlemen will swear to?"

"Very well. I will settle it thus. We will swear that the prisoner isthe poacher we met on Thursday night, and that he is also a foreigndevil: his wearing the forbidden dress; his foreign accent; thefoot-tracks we found in the snow, as of one coming over from the otherside; his obvious ignorance of the Afforesting Act, as shown by hishaving lit a fire and making no effort to conceal his quails till ourpermit shewed him his blunder; the cock-and-bull story he told us aboutyour orders, and that other story about his having killed a foreigndevil--if these facts do not satisfy you, they will satisfy the King thatthe prisoner is a foreign devil as well as a poacher. "

"Some of these facts, " answered George, "are new to me. How do you knowthat the foot-tracks were made by the prisoner?"

Panky brought out his note-book and read the details he had noted. 

"Did you examine the man's boots?"

"One of them, the right foot; this, with the measurements, was quiteenough. "

"Hardly. Please to look at both soles of my own boots; you will findthat those tracks were mine. I will have the prisoner's boots examined;in the meantime let me tell you that I was up at the statues on Thursdaymorning, walked three or four hundred yards beyond them, over groundwhere there was less snow, returned over the snow, and went two or threetimes round them, as it is the Ranger's duty to do once a year in orderto see that none of them are beginning to lean. "

He showed the soles of his boots, and the Professors were obliged toadmit that the tracks were his. He cautioned them as to the rest of thepoints on which they relied. Might they not be as mistaken, as they hadjust proved to be about the tracks? He could not, however, stir themfrom sticking to it that there was enough evidence to prove my father tobe a foreign devil, and declaring their readiness to depose to the factson oath. In the end Hanky again fiercely accused him of trying to shieldthe prisoner. 

"You are quite right, " said George, "and you will see my reasonsshortly. "

"I have no doubt, " said Hanky significantly, "that they are such as wouldweigh with any man of ordinary feeling. "

"I understand, then, " said George, appearing to take no notice of Hanky'sinnuendo, "that you will swear to the facts as you have above statedthem?"

"Certainly. "

"Then kindly wait while I write them on the form that I have brought withme; the Mayor can administer the oath and sign your depositions. I shallthen be able to leave you, and proceed with getting up the case againstthe prisoner. "

So saying, he went to a writing-table in another part of the room, andmade out the depositions. 

Meanwhile the Mayor, Mrs. Humdrum, and Dr. Downie (who had each of themmore than once vainly tried to take part in the above discussion)conversed eagerly in an undertone among themselves. Hanky was blind withrage, for he had a sense that he was going to be outwitted; the Mayor, Yram, and Mrs. Humdrum had already seen that George thought he had allthe trumps in his own hand, but they did not know more. Dr. Downie wasfrightened, and Panky so muddled as to be _hors de combat_. 

George now rejoined the Professors, and read the depositions: the Mayoradministered the oath according to Erewhonian custom; the Professorssigned without a word, and George then handed the document to his fatherto countersign. 

The Mayor examined it, and almost immediately said, "My dear George, youhave made a mistake; these depositions are on a form reserved fordeponents who are on the point of death. "

"Alas!" answered George, "there is no help for it. I did my utmost toprevent their signing. I knew that those depositions were their owndeath warrant, --and that is why, though I was satisfied that the prisoneris a foreign devil, I had hoped to be able to shut my eyes. I can now nolonger do so, and as the inevitable consequence, I must Blue-Pool boththe Professors before midnight. What man of ordinary feeling would notunder these circumstances have tried to dissuade them from deposing asthey have done?"

By this time the Professors had started to their feet, and there was alook of horrified astonishment on the faces of all present, save that ofGeorge, who seemed quite happy. 

"What monstrous absurdity is this?" shouted Hanky; "do you mean to murderus?"

"Certainly not. But you have insisted that I should do my duty, and Imean to do it. You gentlemen have now been proved to my satisfaction tohave had traffic with a foreign devil; and under section 37 of theAfforesting Act, I must at once Blue-Pool any such persons without publictrial. "

"Nonsense, nonsense, there was nothing of the kind on our permit, and asfor trafficking with this foreign devil, we spoke to him, but we neitherbought nor sold. Where is the Act?"

"Here. On your permit you were referred to certain other clauses not setout therein, which might be seen at the Mayor's office. Clause 37 is asfollows:-

 "It is furthermore enacted that should any of his Majesty's subjects be found, after examination by the Head Ranger, to have had traffic of any kind by way of sale or barter with any foreign devil, the said Ranger, on being satisfied that such traffic has taken place, shall forthwith, with or without the assistance of his under-rangers, convey such subjects of his Majesty to the Blue Pool, bind them, weight them, and fling them into it, without the formality of a trial, and shall report the circumstances of the case to his Majesty. "

"But we never bought anything from the prisoner. What evidence can youhave of this but the word of a foreign devil in such straits that hewould swear to anything?"

"The prisoner has nothing to do with it. I am convinced by this receiptin Professor Panky's handwriting which states that he and you jointlypurchased his kit from the prisoner, and also this bag of gold nuggetsworth about 100 pounds in silver, for the absurdly small sum of 4 pounds, 10s. In silver. I am further convinced by this handkerchief marked withProfessor Hanky's name, in which was found a broken packet of driedleaves that are now at my office with the rest of the prisoner's kit. "

"Then we were watched and dogged, " said Hanky, "on Thursday evening. "

"That, sir, " replied George, "is my business, not yours. "

Here Panky laid his arms on the table, buried his head in them, and burstinto tears. Every one seemed aghast, but the Mayor, Yram, and Mrs. Humdrum saw that George was enjoying it all far too keenly to be serious. Dr. Downie was still frightened (for George's surface manner wasRhadamanthine) and did his utmost to console Panky. George pounded awayruthlessly at his case. 

"I say nothing about your having bought quails from the prisoner andeaten them. As you justly remarked just now, there is no object inpreferring a smaller charge when one must inflict the death penalty on amore serious one. Still, Professor Hanky, these are bones of the quailsyou ate as you sate opposite the prisoner on the side of the fire nearestSunch'ston; these are Professor Panky's bones, with which I need notdisturb him. This is your permit, which was found upon the prisoner, andwhich there can be no doubt you sold him, having been bribed by the offerof the nuggets for--"

"Monstrous, monstrous! Infamous falsehood! Who will believe such achildish trumped up story!"

"Who, sir, will believe anything else? You will hardly contend that youdid not know the nuggets were gold, and no one will believe you meanenough to have tried to get this poor man's property out of him for asong--you knowing its value, and he not knowing the same. No one willbelieve that you did not know the man to be a foreign devil, or that hecould hoodwink two such learned Professors so cleverly as to get theirpermit out of them. Obviously he seduced you into selling him yourpermit, and--I presume because he wanted a little of our money--he madeyou pay him for his kit. I am satisfied that you have not only hadtraffic with a foreign devil, but traffic of a singularly atrocious kind, and this being so, I shall Blue-Pool both of you as soon as I can get youup to the Pool itself. The sooner we start the better. I shall gag you, and drive you up in a close carriage as far as the road goes; from thatpoint you can walk up, or be dragged up as you may prefer, but you willprobably find walking more comfortable. "

"But, " said Hanky, "come what may, I must be at the banquet. I am setdown to speak. "

"The Mayor will explain that you have been taken somewhat suddenlyunwell. "

Here Yram, who had been talking quietly with her husband, Dr. Downie, andMrs. Humdrum, motioned her son to silence. 

"I feared, " she said, "that difficulties might arise, though I did notforesee how seriously they would affect my guests. Let Mrs. Humdrum onour side, and Dr. Downie on that of the Professors, go into the next roomand talk the matter quietly over; let us then see whether we cannot agreeto be bound by their decision. I do not doubt but they will find somemeans of averting any catastrophe more serious--No, Professor Hanky, thedoors are locked--than a little perjury in which we shall all share andshare alike. "

"Do what you like, " said Hanky, looking for all the world like a ratcaught in a trap. As he spoke he seized a knife from the table, whereonGeorge pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slipped them on tohis wrists before he well knew what was being done to him. 

"George, " said the Mayor, "this is going too far. Do you mean to Blue-Pool the Professors or no?"

"Not if they will compromise. If they will be reasonable, they will notbe Blue-Pooled; if they think they can have everything their own way, theeels will be at them before morning. "

A voice was heard from the head of Panky which he had buried in his armsupon the table. "Co-co-co-compromise, " it said; and the effect was socomic that every one except Hanky smiled. Meanwhile Yram had conductedDr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum into an adjoining room. 

CHAPTER XX: MRS. HUMDRUM AND DR. DOWNIE PROPOSE A COMPROMISE, WHICH, AFTER AN AMENDMENT BY GEORGE, IS CARRIED NEM. CON. 

They returned in about ten minutes, and Dr. Downie asked Mrs. Humdrum tosay what they had agreed to recommend. 

"We think, " said she very demurely, "that the strict course would be todrop the charge of poaching, and Blue-Pool both the Professors and theprisoner without delay. 

"We also think that the proper thing would be to place on record that theprisoner is the Sunchild--about which neither Dr. Downie nor I have ashadow of doubt. 

"These measures we hold to be the only legal ones, but at the same timewe do not recommend them. We think it would offend the public conscienceif it came to be known, as it certainly would, that the Sunchild wasviolently killed, on the very day that had seen us dedicate a temple inhis honour, and perhaps at the very hour when laudatory speeches werebeing made about him at the Mayor's banquet; we think also that we shouldstrain a good many points rather than Blue-Pool the Professors. 

"Nothing is perfect, and Truth makes her mistakes like other people; whenshe goes wrong and reduces herself to such an absurdity as she has heredone, those who love her must save her from herself, correct her, andrehabilitate her. 

"Our conclusion, therefore, is this:-

"The prisoner must recant on oath his statement that he is the Sunchild. The interpreter must be squared, or convinced of his mistake. TheMayoress, Dr. Downie, I, and the gaoler (with the interpreter if we canmanage him), must depose on oath that the prisoner is not Higgs. Thismust be our contribution to the rehabilitation of Truth. 

"The Professors must contribute as follows: They must swear that theprisoner is not the man they met with quails in his possession onThursday night. They must further swear that they have one or both ofthem known him, off and on, for many years past, as a monomaniac withSunchildism on the brain but otherwise harmless. If they will do this, no proceedings are to be taken against them. 

"The Mayor's contribution shall be to reprimand the prisoner, and orderhim to repeat his recantation in the new temple before the Manager andHead Cashier, and to confirm his statement on oath by kissing thereliquary containing the newly found relic. 

"The Ranger and the Master of the Gaol must contribute that theprisoner's measurements, and the marks found on his body, negative allpossibility of his identity with the Sunchild, and that all the hair onthe covered as well as the uncovered parts of his body was found to bejet black. 

"We advise further that the prisoner should have his nuggets and his kitreturned to him, and that the receipt given by the Professors togetherwith Professor Hanky's handkerchief be given back to the Professors. 

"Furthermore, seeing that we should all of us like to have a quietevening with the prisoner, we should petition the Mayor and Mayoress toask him to meet all here present at dinner to-morrow evening, after hisdischarge, on the plea that Professors Hanky and Panky and Dr. Downie maygive him counsel, convince him of his folly, and if possible free himhenceforth from the monomania under which he now suffers. 

"The prisoner shall give his word of honour, never to return to Erewhon, nor to encourage any of his countrymen to do so. After the dinner towhich we hope the Mayoress Will invite us, the Ranger, if the night isfair, shall escort the prisoner as far as the statues, whence he willfind his own way home. 

"Those who are in favour of this compromise hold up their hands. "

The Mayor and Yram held up theirs. "Will you hold up yours, ProfessorHanky, " said George, "if I release you?"

"Yes, " said Hanky with a gruff laugh, whereon George released him and heheld up both his hands. 

Panky did not hold up his, whereon Hanky said, "Hold up your hands, Panky, can't you? We are really very well out of it. "

Panky, hardly lifting his head, sobbed out, "I think we ought to have ourf-f-fo-fo-four pounds ten returned to us. "

"I am afraid, sir, " said George, "that the prisoner must have spent thegreater part of this money. "

Every one smiled, indeed it was all George could do to prevent himselffrom laughing outright. The Mayor brought out his purse, counted themoney, and handed it good-humouredly to Panky, who gratefully receivedit, and said he would divide it with Hanky. He then held up his hands, "But, " he added, turning to his brother Professor, "so long as I live, Hanky, I will never go out anywhere again with you. "

George then turned to Hanky and said, "I am afraid I must now trouble youand Professor Panky to depose on oath to the facts which Mrs. Humdrum andDr. Downie propose you should swear to in open court to-morrow. I knewyou would do so, and have brought an ordinary form, duly filled up, whichdeclares that the prisoner is not the poacher you met on Thursday; andalso, that he has been long known to both of you as a harmlessmonomaniac. "

As he spoke he brought out depositions to the above effect which he hadjust written in his office; he shewed the Professors that the form wasthis time an innocent one, whereon they made no demur to signing andswearing in the presence of the Mayor, who attested. 

"The former depositions, " said Hanky, "had better be destroyed at once. "

"That, " said George, "may hardly be, but so long as you stick to what youhave just sworn to, they will not be used against you. "

Hanky scowled, but knew that he was powerless and said no more. 

* * * * *

The knowledge of what ensued did not reach me from my father. George andhis mother, seeing how ill he looked, and what a shock the events of thelast few days had given him, resolved that he should not know of the riskthat George was about to run; they therefore said nothing to him aboutit. What I shall now tell, I learned on the occasion already referred towhen I had the happiness to meet George. I am in some doubt whether itis more fitly told here, or when I come to the interview between him andme; on the whole, however, I suppose chronological order is leastoutraged by dealing with it here. 

As soon as the Professors had signed the second depositions, George said, "I have not yet held up my hands, but I will hold them up if Mrs. Humdrumand Dr. Downie will approve of what I propose. Their compromise does notgo far enough, for swear as we may, it is sure to get noised abroad, withthe usual exaggerations, that the Sunchild has been here, and that he hasbeen spirited away either by us, or by the sun his father. For oneperson whom we know of as having identified him, there will be five, ofwhom we know nothing, and whom we cannot square. Reports will reach theKing sooner or later, and I shall be sent for. Meanwhile the Professorswill be living in fear of intrigue on my part, and I, howeverunreasonably, shall fear the like on theirs. This should not be. Imean, therefore, on the day following my return from escorting theprisoner, to set out for the capital, see the King, and make a cleanbreast of the whole matter. To this end I must have the nuggets, theprisoner's kit, his receipt, Professor Hanky's handkerchief, and, ofcourse, the two depositions just sworn to by the Professors. I hope andthink that the King will pardon us all round; but whatever he may do Ishall tell him everything. "

Hanky was up in arms at once. "Sheer madness, " he exclaimed. Yram andthe Mayor looked anxious; Dr. Downie eyed George as though he were somecurious creature, which he heard of but had never seen, and was ratherdisposed to like. Mrs. Humdrum nodded her head approvingly. 

"Quite right, George, " said she, "tell his Majesty everything. "

Dr. Downie then said, "Your son, Mayoress, is a very sensible fellow. Iwill go with him, and with the Professors--for they had better come too:each will hear what the other says, and we will tell the truth, the wholetruth, and nothing but the truth. I am, as you know, a _persona grata_at Court; I will say that I advised your son's action. The King hasliked him ever since he was a boy, and I am not much afraid about what hewill do. In public, no doubt we had better hush things up, but inprivate the King must be told. "

Hanky fought hard for some time, but George told him that it did notmatter whether he agreed or no. "You can come, " he said, "or stop away, just as you please. If you come, you can hear and speak; if you do not, you will not hear, but these two depositions will speak for you. Pleaseyourself. "

"Very well, " he said at last, "I suppose we had better go. "

Every one having now understood what his or her part was to be, Yram saidthey had better shake hands all round and take a couple of hours' restbefore getting ready for the banquet. George said that the Professorsdid not shake hands with him very cordially, but the farce was gonethrough. When the hand-shaking was over, Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrumleft the house, and the Professors retired grumpily to their own room. 

I will say here that no harm happened either to George or the Professorsin consequence of his having told the King, but will reserve particularsfor my concluding chapter. 

CHAPTER XXI: YRAM, ON GETTING RID OF HER GUESTS, GOES TO THE PRISON TOSEE MY FATHER

Yram did not take the advice she had given her guests, but set aboutpreparing a basket of the best cold dainties she could find, including abottle of choice wine that she knew my father would like; thus loaded shewent to the gaol, which she entered by her father's private entrance. 

It was now about half-past four, so that much more must have been saidand done after luncheon at the Mayor's than ever reached my father. Thewonder is that he was able to collect so much. He, poor man, as soon asGeorge left him, flung himself on to the bed that was in his cell and laythere wakeful, but not unquiet, till near the time when Yram reached thegaol. 

The old gaoler came to tell him that she had come and would be glad tosee him; much as he dreaded the meeting there was no avoiding it, and ina few minutes Yram stood before him. 

Both were agitated, but Yram betrayed less of what she felt than myfather. He could only bow his head and cover his face with his hands. Yram said, "We are old friends; take your hands from your face and let mesee you. There! That is well. "

She took his right hand between both hers, looked at him with eyes fullof kindness, and said softly--

"You are not much changed, but you look haggard, worn, and ill; I amuneasy about you. Remember, you are among friends, who will see that noharm befalls you. There is a look in your eyes that frightens me. "

As she spoke she took the wine out of her basket, and poured him out aglass, but rather to give him some little thing to distract hisattention, than because she expected him to drink it--which he could notdo. 

She never asked him whether he found her altered, or turned theconversation ever such a little on to herself; all was for him; to sootheand comfort him, not in words alone, but in look, manner, and voice. Myfather knew that he could thank her best by controlling himself, andletting himself be soothed and comforted--at any rate so far as he couldseem to be. 

Up to this time they had been standing, but now Yram, seeing my fathercalmer, said, "Enough, let us sit down. "

So saying she seated herself at one end of the small table that was inthe cell, and motioned my father to sit opposite to her. "The lighthurts you?" she said, for the sun was coming into the room. "Changeplaces with me, I am a sun worshipper. No, we can move the table, and wecan then see each other better. "

This done, she said, still very softly, "And now tell me what it is allabout. Why have you come here?"

"Tell me first, " said my father, "what befell you after I had been takenaway. Why did you not send me word when you found what had happened? orcome after me? You know I should have married you at once, unless theybound me in fetters. "

"I know you would; but you remember Mrs. Humdrum? Yes, I see you do. Itold her everything; it was she who saved me. We thought of you, but shesaw that it would not do. As I was to marry Mr. Strong, the more youwere lost sight of the better, but with George ever with me I have notbeen able to forget you. I might have been very happy with you, but Icould not have been happier than I have been ever since that shortdreadful time was over. George must tell you the rest. I cannot do so. All is well. I love my husband with my whole heart and soul, and heloves me with his. As between him and me, he knows everything; George ishis son, not yours; we have settled it so, though we both know otherwise;as between you and me, for this one hour, here, there is no use inpretending that you are not George's father. I have said all I need say. Now, tell me what I asked you--Why are you here?"

"I fear, " said my father, set at rest by the sweetness of Yram's voiceand manner--he told me he had never seen any one to compare with herexcept my mother--"I fear, to do as much harm now as I did before, andwith as little wish to do any harm at all. "

He then told her all that the reader knows, and explained how he hadthought he could have gone about the country as a peasant, and seen howshe herself had fared, without her, or any one, even suspecting that hewas in the country. 

"You say your wife is dead, and that she left you with a son--is he likeGeorge?"

"In mind and disposition, wonderfully; in appearance, no; he is dark andtakes after his mother, and though he is handsome, he is not sogood-looking as George. "

"No one, " said George's mother, "ever was, or ever will be, and he is asgood as he looks. "

"I should not have believed you if you had said he was not. "

"That is right. I am glad you are proud of him. He irradiates the livesof every one of us. "

"And the mere knowledge that he exists will irradiate the rest of mine. "

"Long may it do so. Let us now talk about this morning--did you mean todeclare yourself?"

"I do not know what I meant; what I most cared about was the doing what Ithought George would wish to see his father do. "

"You did that; but he says he told you not to say who you were. "

"So he did, but I knew what he would think right. He was uppermost in mythoughts all the time. "

Yram smiled, and said, "George is a dangerous person; you were both ofyou very foolish; one as bad as the other. "

"I do not know. I do not know anything. It is beyond me; but I am atpeace about it, and hope I shall do the like again to-morrow before theMayor. "

"I heartily hope you will do nothing of the kind. George tells me youhave promised him to be good and to do as we bid you. "

"So I will; but he will not tell me to say that I am not what I am. "

"Yes, he will, and I will tell you why. If we permit you to be Higgs theSunchild, he must either throw his own father into the Blue Pool--whichhe will not do--or run great risk of being thrown into it himself, fornot having Blue-Pooled a foreigner. I am afraid we shall have to makeyou do a good deal that neither you nor we shall like. "

She then told him briefly of what had passed after luncheon at her house, and what it had been settled to do, leaving George to tell the detailswhile escorting him towards the statues on the following evening. Shesaid that every one would be so completely in every one else's power thatthere was no fear of any one's turning traitor. But she said nothingabout George's intention of setting out for the capital on Wednesdaymorning to tell the whole story to the King. 

"Now, " she said, when she had told him as much as was necessary, "begood, and do as you said you would. "

"I will. I will deny myself, not once, nor twice, but as often as isnecessary. I will kiss the reliquary, and when I meet Hanky and Panky atyour table, I will be sworn brother to them--so long, that is, as Georgeis out of hearing; for I cannot lie well to them when he is listening. "

"Oh yes, you can. He will understand all about it; he enjoys falsehoodas well as we all do, and has the nicest sense of when to lie and whennot to do so. "

"What gift can be more invaluable?"

My father, knowing that he might not have another chance of seeing Yramalone, now changed the conversation. 

"I have something, " he said, "for George, but he must know nothing aboutit till after I am gone. "

As he spoke, he took from his pockets the nine small bags of nuggets thatremained to him. 

"But this, " said Yram, "being gold, is a large sum: can you indeed spareit, and do you really wish George to have it all?"

"I shall be very unhappy if he does not, but he must know nothing aboutit till I am out of Erewhon. "

My father then explained to her that he was now very rich, and would havebrought ten times as much, if he had known of George's existence. "Then, "said Yram, musing, "if you are rich, I accept and thank you heartily onhis behalf. I can see a reason for his not knowing what you are givinghim at present, but it is too long to tell. "

The reason was, that if George knew of this gold before he saw the King, he would be sure to tell him of it, and the King might claim it, forGeorge would never explain that it was a gift from father to son; whereasif the King had once pardoned him, he would not be so squeamish as toopen up the whole thing again with a postscript to his confession. Butof this she said not a word. 

My father then told her of the box of sovereigns that he had left in hissaddle-bags. "They are coined, " he said, "and George will have to meltthem down, but he will find some way of doing this. They will be worthrather more than these nine bags of nuggets. "

"The difficulty will be to get him to go down and fetch them, for it isagainst his oath to go far beyond the statues. If you could be takenfaint and say you wanted help, he would see you to your camping groundwithout a word, but he would be angry if he found he had been trickedinto breaking his oath in order that money might be given him. It wouldnever do. Besides, there would not be time, for he must be back here onTuesday night. No; if he breaks his oath he must do it with his eyesopen--and he will do it later on--or I will go and fetch the money forhim myself. He is in love with a grand-daughter of Mrs. Humdrum's, andthis sum, together with what you are now leaving with me, will make him awell-to-do man. I have always been unhappy about his having any of theMayor's money, and his salary was not quite enough for him to marry on. What can I say to thank you?"

"Tell me, please, about Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter. You like her as awife for George?"

"Absolutely. She is just such another as her grandmother must have been. She and George have been sworn lovers ever since he was ten, and sheeight. The only drawback is that her mother, Mrs. Humdrum's seconddaughter, married for love, and there are many children, so that therewill be no money with her; but what you are leaving will make everythingquite easy, for he will sell the gold at once. I am so glad about it. "

"Can you ask Mrs. Humdrum to bring her grand-daughter with her to-morrowevening?"

"I am afraid not, for we shall want to talk freely at dinner, and shemust not know that you are the Sunchild; she shall come to my house inthe afternoon and you can see her then. You will be quite happy abouther, but of course she must not know that you are her father-in-law thatis to be. "

"One thing more. As George must know nothing about the sovereigns, Imust tell you how I will hide them. They are in a silver box, which Iwill bind to the bough of some tree close to my camp; or if I can find atree with a hole in it I will drop the box into the hole. He cannot missmy camp; he has only to follow the stream that runs down from the passtill it gets near a large river, and on a small triangular patch of flatground, he will see the ashes of my camp fire, a few yards away from thestream on his right hand as he descends. In whatever tree I may hide thebox, I will strew wood ashes for some yards in a straight line towardsit. I will then light another fire underneath, and blaze the tree with aknife that I have left at my camping ground. He is sure to find it. "

Yram again thanked him, and then my father, to change the conversation, asked whether she thought that George really would have Blue-Pooled theProfessors. 

"There is no knowing, " said Yram. "He is the gentlest creature livingtill some great provocation rouses him, and I never saw him hate anddespise any one as he does the Professors. Much of what he said wasmerely put on, for he knew the Professors must yield. I do not like hisever having to throw any one into that horrid place, no more does he, butthe Rangership is exactly the sort of thing to suit him, and the openingwas too good to lose. I must now leave you, and get ready for theMayor's banquet. We shall meet again to-morrow evening. Try and eatwhat I have brought you in this basket. I hope you will like the wine. "She put out her hand, which my father took, and in another moment she wasgone, for she saw a look in his face as though he would fain have askedher to let him once more press his lips to hers. Had he done this, without thinking about it, it is likely enough she would not have beenill pleased. But who can say?

For the rest of the evening my father was left very much to his own nottoo comfortable reflections. He spent part of it in posting up the notesfrom which, as well as from his own mouth, my story is in great parttaken. The good things that Yram had left with him, and his pipe, whichshe had told him he might smoke quite freely, occupied another part, andby ten o'clock he went to bed. 

CHAPTER XXII: MAINLY OCCUPIED WITH A VERACIOUS EXTRACT FROM ASUNCH'STONIAN JOURNAL

While my father was thus wiling away the hours in his cell, the wholetown was being illuminated in his honour, and not more than a couple ofhundred yards off, at the Mayor's banquet, he was being extolled as asuperhuman being. 

The banquet, which was at the town hall, was indeed a very brilliantaffair, but the little space that is left me forbids my saying more thanthat Hanky made what was considered the speech of the evening, andbetrayed no sign of ill effects from the bad quarter of an hour which hehad spent so recently. Not a trace was to be seen of any desire on hispart to change his tone as regards Sunchildism--as, for example, tominimize the importance of the relic, or to remind his hearers thatthough the chariot and horses had undoubtedly come down from the sky andcarried away my father and mother, yet that the earlier stage of theascent had been made in a balloon. It almost seemed, so George told myfather, as though he had resolved that he would speak lies, all lies, andnothing but lies. 

Panky, who was also to have spoken, was excused by the Mayor on theground that the great heat and the excitement of the day's proceedingshad quite robbed him of his voice. 

Dr. Downie had a jumping cat before his mental vision. He spoke quietlyand sensibly, dwelling chiefly on the benefits that had already accruedto the kingdom through the abolition of the edicts against machinery, andthe great developments which he foresaw as probable in the near future. He held up the Sunchild's example, and his ethical teaching, to theimitation and admiration of his hearers, but he said nothing about themiraculous element in my father's career, on which he declared that hisfriend Professor Hanky had already so eloquently enlarged as to makefurther allusion to it superfluous. 

The reader knows what was to happen on the following morning. Theprogramme concerted at the Mayor's was strictly adhered to. Thefollowing account, however, which appeared in the Sunch'ston bi-weeklynewspaper two days after my father had left, was given me by George ayear later, on the occasion of that interview to which I have alreadymore than once referred. There were other accounts in other papers, butthe one I am giving departs the least widely from the facts. It ran:-

"_The close of a disagreeable incident_. --Our readers will remember thaton Sunday last during the solemn inauguration of the temple now dedicatedto the Sunchild, an individual on the front bench of those set apart forthe public suddenly interrupted Professor Hanky's eloquent sermon bydeclaring himself to be the Sunchild, and saying that he had come downfrom the sun to sanctify by his presence the glorious fane which thepiety of our fellow-citizens and others has erected in his honour. 

"Wild rumours obtained credence throughout the congregation to the effectthat this person was none other than the Sunchild himself, and in spiteof the fact that his complexion and the colour of his hair showed this tobe impossible, more than one person was carried away by the excitement ofthe moment, and by some few points of resemblance between the strangerand the Sunchild. Under the influence of this belief, they werepreparing to give him the honour which they supposed justly due to him, when to the surprise of every one he was taken into custody by thedeservedly popular Ranger of the King's preserves, and in the course ofthe afternoon it became generally known that he had been arrested on thecharge of being one of a gang of poachers who have been known for sometime past to be making much havoc among the quails on the preserves. 

"This offence, at all times deplored by those who desire that his Majestyshould enjoy good sport when he honours us with a visit, is doublydeplorable during the season when, on the higher parts of the preserves, the young birds are not yet able to shift for themselves; the Ranger, therefore, is indefatigable in his efforts to break up the gang, and withthis end in view, for the last fortnight has been out night and day onthe remoter sections of the forest--little suspecting that the marauderswould venture so near Sunch'ston as it now seems they have done. It isto his extreme anxiety to detect and punish these miscreants that we mustascribe the arrest of a man, who, however foolish, and indeed guilty, heis in other respects, is innocent of the particular crime imputed to him. The circumstances that led to his arrest have reached us from anexceptionally well-informed source, and are as follows:-

"Our distinguished guests, Professors Hanky and Panky, both of themjustly celebrated archaeologists, had availed themselves of theopportunity afforded them by their visit to Sunch'ston, to inspect themysterious statues at the head of the stream that comes down near thiscity, and which have hitherto baffled all those who have tried toascertain their date and purpose. 

"On their descent after a fatiguing day the Professors were benighted, and lost their way. Seeing the light of a small fire among some treesnear them, they made towards it, hoping to be directed rightly, and founda man, respectably dressed, sitting by the fire with several brace ofquails beside him, some of them plucked. Believing that in spite of hisappearance, which would not have led them to suppose that he was apoacher, he must unquestionably be one, they hurriedly enquired theirway, intending to leave him as soon as they had got their answer; he, however, attacked them, or made as though he would do so, and said hewould show them a way which they should be in no fear of losing, whereonProfessor Hanky, with a well-directed blow, felled him to the ground. Thetwo Professors, fearing that other poachers might come to his assistance, made off as nearly as they could guess in the direction of Sunch'ston. When they had gone a mile or two onward at haphazard, they sat down undera large tree, and waited till day began to break; they then resumed theirjourney, and before long struck a path which led them to a spot fromwhich they could see the towers of the new temple. 

"Fatigued though they were, they waited before taking the rest of whichthey stood much in need, till they had reported their adventure at theRanger's office. The Ranger was still out on the preserves, butimmediately on his return on Saturday morning he read the description ofthe poacher's appearance and dress, about which last, however, the onlyremarkable feature was that it was better than a poacher might beexpected to possess, and gave an air of respectability to the wearer thatmight easily disarm suspicion. 

"The Ranger made enquiries at all the inns in Sunch'ston, and at lengthsucceeded in hearing of a stranger who appeared to correspond with thepoacher whom the Professors had seen; but the man had already left, andthough the Ranger did his best to trace him he did not succeed. OnSunday morning, however, he observed the prisoner, and found that heanswered the description given by the Professors; he therefore arrestedhim quietly in the temple, but told him that he should not take him toprison till the service was over. The man said he would come quietlyinasmuch as he should easily be able to prove his innocence. In themeantime, however, he professed the utmost anxiety to hear ProfessorHanky's sermon, which he said he believed would concern him nearly. TheRanger paid no attention to this, and was as much astounded as the restof the congregation were, when immediately after one of Professor Hanky'smost eloquent passages, the man started up and declared himself to be theSunchild. On this the Ranger took him away at once, and for the man'sown protection hurried him off to prison. 

"Professor Hanky was so much shocked at such outrageous conduct, that forthe moment he failed to recognise the offender; after a few seconds, however, he grasped the situation, and knew him to be one who on previousoccasions, near Bridgeford, had done what he was now doing. It seemsthat he is notorious in the neighbourhood of Bridgeford, as a monomaniacwho is so deeply impressed with the beauty of the Sunchild'scharacter--and we presume also of his own--as to believe that he ishimself the Sunchild. 

"Recovering almost instantly from the shock the interruption had givenhim, the learned Professor calmed his hearers by acquainting them withthe facts of the case, and continued his sermon to the delight of all whoheard it. We should say, however, that the gentleman who twenty yearsago instructed the Sunchild in the Erewhonian language, was so struckwith some few points of resemblance between the stranger, and his formerpupil, that he acclaimed him, and was removed forcibly by the vergers. 

"On Monday morning the prisoner was brought up before the Mayor. Wecannot say whether it was the sobering effect of prison walls, or whetherhe had been drinking before he entered the temple, and had now had timeenough to recover himself--at any rate for some reason or other he wasabjectly penitent when his case came on for hearing. The charge ofpoaching was first gone into, but was immediately disposed of by theevidence of the two Professors, who stated that the prisoner bore noresemblance to the poacher they had seen, save that he was about the sameheight and age, and was respectably dressed. 

"The charge of disturbing the congregation by declaring himself theSunchild was then proceeded with, and unnecessary as it may appear to be, it was thought advisable to prevent all possibility of the man'sassertion being accepted by the ignorant as true, at some later date, when those who could prove its falsehood were no longer living. Theprisoner, therefore, was removed to his cell, and there measured by theMaster of the Gaol, and the Ranger in the presence of the Mayor, whoattested the accuracy of the measurements. Not one single one of themcorresponded with those recorded of the Sunchild himself, and a few markssuch as moles, and permanent scars on the Sunchild's body were not foundon the prisoner's. Furthermore the prisoner was shaggy-breasted, withmuch coarse jet black hair on the fore-arms and from the knees downwards, whereas the Sunchild had little hair save on his head, and what littlethere was, was fine, and very light in colour. 

"Confronted with these discrepancies, the gentleman who had taught theSunchild our language was convinced of his mistake, though he stillmaintained that there was some superficial likeness between his formerpupil and the prisoner. Here he was confirmed by the Master of the Gaol, the Mayoress, Mrs. Humdrum, and Professors Hanky and Panky, who all ofthem could see what the interpreter meant, but denied that the prisonercould be mistaken for the Sunchild for more than a few seconds. No doubtthe prisoner's unhappy delusion has been fostered, if not entirelycaused, by his having been repeatedly told that he was like the Sunchild. The celebrated Dr. Downie, who well remembers the Sunchild, was alsoexamined, and gave his evidence with so much convincing detail as to makeit unnecessary to call further witnesses. 

"It having been thus once for all officially and authoritatively placedon record that the prisoner was not the Sunchild, Professors Hanky andPanky then identified him as a well known monomaniac on the subject ofSunchildism, who in other respects was harmless. We withhold his nameand place of abode, out of consideration for the well known and highlyrespectable family to which he belongs. The prisoner admitted with muchcontrition that he had made a disturbance in the temple, but pleaded thathe had been carried away by the eloquence of Professor Hanky; he promisedto avoid all like offence in future, and threw himself on the mercy ofthe court. 

"The Mayor, unwilling that Sunday's memorable ceremony should be theoccasion of a serious punishment to any of those who took part in it, reprimanded the prisoner in a few severe but not unkindly words, inflicted a fine of forty shillings, and ordered that the prisoner shouldbe taken directly to the temple, where he should confess his folly to theManager and Head Cashier, and confirm his words by kissing the reliquaryin which the newly found relic has been placed. The prisoner beingunable to pay the fine, some of the ladies and gentlemen in court kindlyraised the amount amongst them, in pity for the poor creature's obviouscontrition, rather than see him sent to prison for a month in default ofpayment. 

"The prisoner was then conducted to the temple, followed by aconsiderable number of people. Strange to say, in spite of theoverwhelming evidence that they had just heard, some few among thefollowers, whose love of the marvellous overpowered their reason, stillmaintained that the prisoner was the Sunchild. Nothing could be moredecorous than the prisoner's behaviour when, after hearing therecantation that was read out to him by the Manager, he signed thedocument with his name and address, which we again withhold, and kissedthe reliquary in confirmation of his words. 

"The Mayor then declared the prisoner to be at liberty. When he had doneso he said, 'I strongly urge you to place yourself under my protectionfor the present, that you may be freed from the impertinent folly andcuriosity of some whose infatuation might lead you from that better mindto which I believe you are now happily restored. I wish you to remainfor some few hours secluded in the privacy of my own study, where Dr. Downie and the two excellent Professors will administer that ghostlycounsel to you, which will be likely to protect you from any return ofyour unhappy delusion. '

"The man humbly bowed assent, and was taken by the Mayor's younger sonsto the Mayor's own house, where he was duly cared for. About midnight, when all was quiet, he was conducted to the outskirts of the town towardsClearwater, and furnished with enough money to provide for his morepressing necessities till he could reach some relatives who reside threeor four days' walk down on the road towards the capital. He desired theman who accompanied him to repeat to the Mayor his heartfelt thanks forthe forbearance and generosity with which he had been treated. Theremembrance of this, he said, should be ever present with him, and he wasconfident would protect him if his unhappy monomania shewed any signs ofreturning. 

"Let us now, however, remind our readers that the poacher who threatenedProfessors Hanky and Panky's life on Thursday evening last is still atlarge. He is evidently a man of desperate character, and it is to behoped that our fellow-citizens will give immediate information at theRanger's office if they see any stranger in the neighbourhood of thepreserves whom they may have reasonable grounds for suspecting. 

"P. S. --As we are on the point of going to press we learn that a dangerouslunatic, who has been for some years confined in the Clearwater asylum, succeeded in escaping on the night of Wednesday last, and it is surmisedwith much probability, that this was the man who threatened the twoProfessors on Thursday evening. His being alone, his having dared tolight a fire, probably to cook quails which he had been driven to killfrom stress of hunger, the respectability of his dress, and the fury withwhich he would have attacked the two Professors single-handed, but forProfessor Hanky's presence of mind in giving him a knock-down blow, allpoint in the direction of thinking that he was no true poacher, but, whatis even more dangerous--a madman at large. We have not received anyparticulars as to the man's appearance, nor the clothes he was wearing, but we have little doubt that these will confirm the surmise to which wenow give publicity. If it is correct it becomes doubly incumbent on allour fellow-citizens to be both on the watch, and on their guard. 

"We may add that the man was fully believed to have taken the directiontowards the capital; hence no attempts were made to look for him in theneighbourhood of Sunch'ston, until news of the threatened attack on theProfessors led the keeper of the asylum to feel confident that he hadhitherto been on a wrong scent. "

CHAPTER XXIII: MY FATHER IS ESCORTED TO THE MAYOR'S HOUSE, AND ISINTRODUCED TO A FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW

My father said he was followed to the Mayor's house by a good manypeople, whom the Mayor's sons in vain tried to get rid of. One or two ofthese still persisted in saying he was the Sunchild--whereon anothersaid, "But his hair is black. "

"Yes, " was the answer, "but a man can dye his hair, can he not? look athis blue eyes and his eyelashes?"

My father was doubting whether he ought not to again deny his identityout of loyalty to the Mayor and Yram, when George's next brother said, "Pay no attention to them, but step out as fast as you can. " Thissettled the matter, and in a few minutes they were at the Mayor's, wherethe young men took him into the study; the elder said with a smile, "Weshould like to stay and talk to you, but my mother said we were not to doso. " Whereon they left him much to his regret, but he gathered rightlythat they had not been officially told who he was, and were to be left tothink what they liked, at any rate for the present. 

In a few minutes the Mayor entered, and going straight up to my fathershook him cordially by the hand. 

"I have brought you this morning's paper, " said he. "You will find afull report of Professor Hanky's sermon, and of the speeches at lastnight's banquet. You see they pass over your little interruption withhardly a word, but I dare say they will have made up their minds about itall by Thursday's issue. "

He laughed as he produced the paper--which my father brought home withhim, and without which I should not have been able to report Hanky'ssermon as fully as I have done. But my father could not let things passover thus lightly. 

"I thank you, " he said, "but I have much more to thank you for, and knownot how to do it. "

"Can you not trust me to take everything as said?"

"Yes, but I cannot trust myself not to be haunted if I do not say--or atany rate try to say--some part of what I ought to say. "

"Very well; then I will say something myself. I have a small joke, theonly one I ever made, which I inflict periodically upon my wife. You, and I suppose George, are the only two other people in the world to whomit can ever be told; let me see, then, if I cannot break the ice with it. It is this. Some men have twin sons; George in this topsy turvey worldof ours has twin fathers--you by luck, and me by cunning. I see yousmile; give me your hand. "

My father took the Mayor's hand between both his own. "Had I been inyour place, " he said, "I should be glad to hope that I might have done asyou did. "

"And I, " said the Mayor, more readily than might have been expected ofhim, "fear that if I had been in yours--I should have made it the properthing for you to do. There! The ice is well broken, and now forbusiness. You will lunch with us, and dine in the evening. I have givenit out that you are of good family, so there is nothing odd in this. Atlunch you will not be the Sunchild, for my younger children will bethere; at dinner all present will know who you are, so we shall be freeas soon as the servants are out of the room. 

"I am sorry, but I must send you away with George as soon as the streetsare empty--say at midnight--for the excitement is too great to allow ofyour staying longer. We must keep your rug and the things you cook with, but my wife will find you what will serve your turn. There is no moon, so you and George will camp out as soon as you get well on to thepreserves; the weather is hot, and you will neither of you take any harm. To-morrow by mid-day you will be at the statues, where George must bidyou good-bye, for he must be at Sunch'ston to-morrow night. You willdoubtless get safely home; I wish with all my heart that I could hear ofyour having done so, but this, I fear, may not be. "

"So be it, " replied my father, "but there is something I should yet say. The Mayoress has no doubt told you of some gold, coined and uncoined, that I am leaving for George. She will also have told you that I amrich; this being so, I should have brought him much more, if I had knownthat there was any such person. You have other children; if you leavehim anything, you will be taking it away from your own flesh and blood;if you leave him nothing, it will be a slur upon him. I must thereforesend you enough gold, to provide for George as your other children willbe provided for; you can settle it upon him at once, and make it clearthat the settlement is instead of provision for him by will. Thedifficulty is in the getting the gold into Erewhon, and until it isactually here, he must know nothing about it. "

I have no space for the discussion that followed. In the end it wassettled that George was to have 2000 pounds in gold, which the Mayordeclared to be too much, and my father too little. Both, however, wereagreed that Erewhon would before long be compelled to enter intorelations with foreign countries, in which case the value of gold woulddecline so much as to make 2000 pounds worth little more than it would bein England. The Mayor proposed to buy land with it, which he would handover to George as a gift from himself, and this my father at once accededto. All sorts of questions such as will occur to the reader were raisedand settled, but I must beg him to be content with knowing thateverything was arranged with the good sense that two such men were sureto bring to bear upon it. 

The getting the gold into Erewhon was to be managed thus. George was toknow nothing, but a promise was to be got from him that at noon on thefollowing New Year's day, or whatever day might be agreed upon, he wouldbe at the statues, where either my father or myself would meet him, spenda couple of hours with him, and then return. Whoever met George was tobring the gold as though it were for the Mayor, and George could betrusted to be human enough to bring it down, when he saw that it would beleft where it was if he did not do so. 

"He will kick a good deal, " said the Mayor, "at first, but he will comeround in the end. "

Luncheon was now announced. My father was feeling faint and ill; morethan once during the forenoon he had had a return of the strangegiddiness and momentary loss of memory which had already twice attackedhim, but he had recovered in each case so quickly that no one had seen hewas unwell. He, poor man, did not yet know what serious brain exhaustionthese attacks betokened, and finding himself in his usual health as soonas they passed away, set them down as simply effects of fatigue and undueexcitement. 

George did not lunch with the others. Yram explained that he had to drawup a report which would occupy him till dinner time. Her three othersons, and her three lovely daughters, were there. My father wasdelighted with all of them, for they made friends with him at once. Hehad feared that he would have been disgraced in their eyes, by his havingjust come from prison, but whatever they may have thought, no trace ofanything but a little engaging timidity on the girls' part was to beseen. The two elder boys--or rather young men, for they seemed fullygrown, though, like George, not yet bearded--treated him as already anold acquaintance, while the youngest, a lad of fourteen, walked straightup to him, put out his hand, and said, "How do you do, sir?" with apretty blush that went straight to my father's heart. 

"These boys, " he said to Yram aside, "who have nothing to blush for--seehow the blood mantles into their young cheeks, while I, who should blushat being spoken to by them, cannot do so. "

"Do not talk nonsense, " said Yram, with mock severity. 

But it was no nonsense to my poor father. He was awed at the goodnessand beauty with which he found himself surrounded. His thoughts were toofull of what had been, what was, and what was yet to be, to let himdevote himself to these young people as he would dearly have liked to do. He could only look at them, wonder at them, fall in love with them, andthank heaven that George had been brought up in such a household. 

When luncheon was over, Yram said, "I will now send you to a room whereyou can lie down and go to sleep for a few hours. You will be out lateto-night, and had better rest while you can. Do you remember the drinkyou taught us to make of corn parched and ground? You used to say youliked it. A cup shall be brought to your room at about five, for youmust try and sleep till then. If you notice a little box on the dressing-table of your room, you will open it or no as you like. About half-pastfive there will be a visitor, whose name you can guess, but I shall notlet her stay long with you. Here comes the servant to take you to yourroom. " On this she smiled, and turned somewhat hurriedly away. 

My father on reaching his room went to the dressing-table, where he saw asmall unpretending box, which he immediately opened. On the top was apaper with the words, "Look--say nothing--forget. " Beneath this was somecotton wool, and then--the two buttons and the lock of his own hair, thathe had given Yram when he said good-bye to her. 

The ghost of the lock that Yram had then given him, rose from the dead, and smote him as with a whip across the face. On what dust-heap had itnot been thrown how many long years ago? Then she had never forgottenhim? to have been remembered all these years by such a woman as that, andnever to have heeded it--never to have found out what she was though hehad seen her day after day for months. Ah! but she was then stillbudding. That was no excuse. If a loveable woman--aye, or any woman--hasloved a man, even though he cannot marry her, or even wish to do so, atany rate let him not forget her--and he had forgotten Yram as completelyuntil the last few days, as though he had never seen her. He took herlittle missive, and under "Look, " he wrote, "I have;" under "Saynothing, " "I will;" under "forget, " "never. " "And I never shall, " hesaid to himself, as he replaced the box upon the table. He then lay downto rest upon the bed, but he could get no sleep. 

When the servant brought him his imitation coffee--an imitation sosuccessful that Yram made him a packet of it to replace the tea that hemust leave behind him--he rose and presently came downstairs into thedrawing-room, where he found Yram and Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter, ofwhom I will say nothing, for I have never seen her, and know nothingabout her, except that my father found her a sweet-looking girl, ofgraceful figure and very attractive expression. He was quite happy abouther, but she was too young and shy to make it possible for him to do morethan admire her appearance, and take Yram's word for it that she was asgood as she looked. 

CHAPTER XXIV: AFTER DINNER, DR. DOWNIE AND THE PROFESSORS WOULD BE GLADTO KNOW WHAT IS TO BE DONE ABOUT SUNCHILDISM

It was about six when George's _fiancee_ left the house, and as soon asshe had done so, Yram began to see about the rug and the best substitutesshe could find for the billy and pannikin. She had a basket packed withall that my father and George would want to eat and drink while on thepreserves, and enough of everything, except meat, to keep my father goingtill he could reach the shepherd's hut of which I have already spoken. Meat would not keep, and my father could get plenty of flappers--i. E. Ducks that cannot yet fly--when he was on the river-bed down below. 

The above preparations had not been made very long, before Mrs. Humdrumarrived, followed presently by Dr. Downie and in due course by theProfessors, who were still staying in the house. My father rememberedMrs. Humdrum's good honest face, but could not bring Dr. Downie to hisrecollection till the Doctor told him when and where they had met, andthen he could only very uncertainly recall him, though he vowed that hecould now do so perfectly well. 

"At any rate, " said Hanky, advancing towards him with his best Bridgefordmanner, "you will not have forgotten meeting my brother Professor andmyself. "

"It has been rather a forgetting sort of a morning, " said my fatherdemurely, "but I can remember that much, and am delighted to renew myacquaintance with both of you. "

As he spoke he shook hands with both Professors. 

George was a little late, but when he came, dinner was announced. Myfather sat on Yram's right-hand, Dr. Downie on her left. George was nextmy father, with Mrs. Humdrum opposite to him. The Professors sat one oneither side of the Mayor. During dinner the conversation turned almostentirely on my father's flight, his narrow escape from drowning, and hisadventures on his return to England; about these last my father was veryreticent, for he said nothing about his book, and antedated his accessionof wealth by some fifteen years, but as he walked up towards the statueswith George he told him everything. 

My father repeatedly tried to turn the conversation from himself, butMrs. Humdrum and Yram wanted to know about Nna Haras, as they persistedin calling my mother--how she endured her terrible experiences in theballoon, when she and my father were married, all about my unworthy self, and England generally. No matter how often he began to ask questionsabout the Nosnibors and other old acquaintances, both the ladies soonwent back to his own adventures. He succeeded, however, in learning thatMr. Nosnibor was dead, and Zulora, an old maid of the most unattractivekind, who had persistently refused to accept Sunchildism, while Mrs. Nosnibor was the recipient of honours hardly inferior to those conferredby the people at large on my father and mother, with whom, indeed, shebelieved herself to have frequent interviews by way of visionaryrevelations. So intolerable were these revelations to Zulora, that aseparate establishment had been provided for her. George said to myfather quietly--"Do you know I begin to think that Zulora must be rathera nice person. "

"Perhaps, " said my father grimly, "but my wife and I did not find itout. "

When the ladies left the room, Dr. Downie took Yram's seat, and Hanky Dr. Downie's; the Mayor took Mrs. Humdrum's, leaving my father, George, andPanky, in their old places. Almost immediately, Dr. Downie said, "Andnow, Mr, Higgs, tell us, as a man of the world, what we are to do aboutSunchildism?"

My father smiled at this. "You know, my dear sir, as well as I do, thatthe proper thing would be to put me back in prison, and keep me theretill you can send me down to the capital. You should eat your oaths ofthis morning, as I would eat mine; tell every one here who I am; let themsee that my hair has been dyed; get all who knew me when I was herebefore to come and see me; appoint an unimpeachable committee to examinethe record of my marks and measurements, and compare it with those of myown body. You should let me be seen in every town at which I lodged onmy way down, and tell people that you had made a mistake. When you getto the capital, hand me over to the King's tender mercies and say thatour oaths were only taken this morning to prevent a ferment in the town. I will play my part very willingly. The King can only kill me, and Ishould die like a gentleman. "

"They will not do it, " said George quietly to my father, "and I am gladof it. "

He was right. "This, " said Dr. Downie, "is a counsel of perfection. Things have gone too far, and we are flesh and blood. What would thosewho in your country come nearest to us Musical Bank Managers do, if theyfound they had made such a mistake as we have, and dared not own it?"

"Do not ask me, " said my father; "the story is too long, and tooterrible. "

"At any rate, then, tell us what you would have us do that is within ourreach. "

"I have done you harm enough, and if I preach, as likely as not I shalldo more. "

Seeing, however, that Dr. Downie was anxious to hear what he thought, myfather said--

"Then I must tell you. Our religion sets before us an ideal which we allcordially accept, but it also tells us of marvels like your chariot andhorses, which we most of us reject. Our best teachers insist on theideal, and keep the marvels in the background. If they could sayoutright that our age has outgrown them, they would say so, but this theymay not do; nevertheless they contrive to let their opinions besufficiently well known, and their hearers are content with this. 

"We have others who take a very different course, but of these I will notspeak. Roughly, then, if you cannot abolish me altogether, make me a pegon which to hang all your own best ethical and spiritual conceptions. Ifyou will do this, and wriggle out of that wretched relic, with that notless wretched picture--if you will make me out to be much better andabler than I was, or ever shall be, Sunchildism may serve your turn formany a long year to come. Otherwise it will tumble about your headsbefore you think it will. 

"Am I to go on or stop?"

"Go on, " said George softly. That was enough for my father, so on hewent. 

"You are already doing part of what I wish. I was delighted with the twopassages I heard on Sunday, from what you call the Sunchild's Sayings. Inever said a word of either passage; I wish I had; I wish I could sayanything half so good. And I have read a pamphlet by President Gurgoyle, which I liked extremely; but I never said what he says I did. Again, Iwish I had. Keep to this sort of thing, and I will be as good aSunchildist as any of you. But you must bribe some thief to steal thatrelic, and break it up to mend the roads with; and--for I believe thathere as elsewhere fires sometimes get lighted through the carelessness ofa workman--set the most careless workman you can find to do a plumbingjob near that picture. "

Hanky looked black at this, and George trod lightly on my father's toe, but he told me that my father's face was innocence itself. 

"These are hard sayings, " said Dr. Downie. 

"I know they are, " replied my father, "and I do not like saying them, butthere is no royal road to unlearning, and you have much to unlearn. Still, you Musical Bank people bear witness to the fact that beyond thekingdoms of this world there is another, within which the writs of thisworld's kingdoms do not run. This is the great service which our churchdoes for us in England, and hence many of us uphold it, though we have nosympathy with the party now dominant within it. 'Better, ' we think, 'acorrupt church than none at all. ' Moreover, those who in my countrywould step into the church's shoes are as corrupt as the church, and moreexacting. They are also more dangerous, for the masses distrust thechurch, and are on their guard against aggression, whereas they do notsuspect the doctrinaires and faddists, who, if they could, wouldinterfere in every concern of our lives. 

"Let me return to yourselves. You Musical Bank Managers are very muchsuch a body of men as your country needs--but when I was here before youhad no figurehead; I have unwittingly supplied you with one, and it isperhaps because you saw this, that you good people of Bridgeford took upwith me. Sunchildism is still young and plastic; if you will let thecock-and-bull stories about me tacitly drop, and invent no new ones, beyond saying what a delightful person I was, I really cannot see why Ishould not do for you as well as any one else. 

"There. What I have said is nine-tenths of it rotten and wrong, but itis the most practicable rotten and wrong that I can suggest, seeing intowhat a rotten and wrong state of things you have drifted. And now, Mr. Mayor, do you not think we may join the Mayoress and Mrs. Humdrum?"

"As you please, Mr. Higgs, " answered the Mayor. 

"Then let us go, for I have said too much already, and your son Georgetells me that we must be starting shortly. "

As they were leaving the room Panky sidled up to my father and said, "There is a point, Mr. Higgs, which you can settle for me, though I feelpretty certain how you will settle it. I think that a corruption hascrept into the text of the very beautiful--"

At this moment, as my father, who saw what was coming, was wondering whatin the world he could say, George came up to him and said, "Mr. Higgs, mymother wishes me to take you down into the store-room, to make sure thatshe has put everything for you as you would like it. " On this my fathersaid he would return directly and answer what he knew would be Panky'squestion. 

When Yram had shewn what she had prepared--all of it, of course, faultless--she said, "And now, Mr. Higgs, about our leave-taking. Ofcourse we shall both of us feel much. I shall; I know you will; Georgewill have a few more hours with you than the rest of us, but his time tosay good-bye will come, and it will be painful to both of you. I am gladyou came--I am glad you have seen George, and George you, and that youtook to one another. I am glad my husband has seen you; he has spoken tome about you very warmly, for he has taken to you much as George did. Iam very, very glad to have seen you myself, and to have learned whatbecame of you--and of your wife. I know you wish well to all of us; besure that we all of us wish most heartily well to you and yours. I sentfor you and George, because I could not say all this unless we werealone; it is all I can do, " she said, with a smile, "to say it now. "

Indeed it was, for the tears were in her eyes all the time, as they werealso in my father's. 

"Let this, " continued Yram, "be our leave-taking--for we must havenothing like a scene upstairs. Just shake hands with us all, say theusual conventional things, and make it as short as you can; but I couldnot bear to send you away without a few warmer words than I could havesaid when others were in the room. "

"May heaven bless you and yours, " said my father, "for ever and ever. "

"That will do, " said George gently. "Now, both of you shake hands, andcome upstairs with me. "

* * * * *

When all three of them had got calm, for George had been moved almost asmuch as his father and mother, they went upstairs, and Panky came for hisanswer. "You are very possibly right, " said my father--"the version youhold to be corrupt is the one in common use amongst ourselves, but it isonly a translation, and very possibly only a translation of atranslation, so that it may perhaps have been corrupted before it reachedus. "

"That, " said Panky, "will explain everything, " and he went contentedlyaway. 

My father talked a little aside with Mrs. Humdrum about hergrand-daughter and George, for Yram had told him that she knew all aboutthe attachment, and then George, who saw that my father found thegreatest difficulty in maintaining an outward calm, said, "Mr. Higgs, thestreets are empty; we had better go. "

My father did as Yram had told him; shook hands with every one, said allthat was usual and proper as briefly as he could, and followed George outof the room. The Mayor saw them to the door, and saved my father fromembarrassment by saying, "Mr. Higgs, you and I understand one another toowell to make it necessary for us to say so. Good-bye to you, and may noill befall you ere you get home. "

My father grasped his hand in both his own. "Again, " he said, "I can sayno more than that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. "

As he spoke he bowed his head, and went out with George into the night. 

CHAPTER XXV: GEORGE ESCORTS MY FATHER TO THE STATUES; THE TWO THEN PART

The streets were quite deserted as George had said they would be, andvery dark, save for an occasional oil lamp. 

"As soon as we can get within the preserves, " said George, "we had betterwait till morning. I have a rug for myself as well as for you. "

"I saw you had two, " answered my father; "you must let me carry themboth; the provisions are much the heavier load. 

George fought as hard as a dog would do, till my father said that theymust not quarrel during the very short time they had to be together. Onthis George gave up one rug meekly enough, and my father yielded aboutthe basket, and the other rug. 

It was about half-past eleven when they started, and it was after onebefore they reached the preserves. For the first mile from the town theywere not much hindered by the darkness, and my father told George abouthis book and many another matter; he also promised George to say nothingabout this second visit. Then the road became more rough, and when itdwindled away to be a mere lane--becoming presently only a foottrack--they had to mind their footsteps, and got on but slowly. Thenight was starlit, and warm, considering that they were more than threethousand feet above the sea, but it was very dark, so that my father waswell enough pleased when George showed him the white stones that markedthe boundary, and said they had better soon make themselves ascomfortable as they could till morning. 

"We can stay here, " he said, "till half-past three, there will be alittle daylight then; we will rest half an hour for breakfast at aboutfive, and by noon we shall be at the statues, where we will dine. "

This being settled, George rolled himself up in his rug, and in a fewminutes went comfortably off to sleep. Not so my poor father. He woundup his watch, wrapped his rug round him, and lay down; but he could getno sleep. After such a day, and such an evening, how could any one haveslept?

About three the first signs of dawn began to show, and half an hour latermy father could see the sleeping face of his son--whom it went to hisheart to wake. Nevertheless he woke him, and in a few minutes the twowere on their way--George as fresh as a lark--my poor father intent onnothing so much as on hiding from George how ill and unsound in body andmind he was feeling. 

They walked on, saying but little, till at five by my father's watchGeorge proposed a halt for breakfast. The spot he chose was a grassyoasis among the trees, carpeted with subalpine flowers, now in theirfullest beauty, and close to a small stream that here came down from aside valley. The freshness of the morning air, the extreme beauty of theplace, the lovely birds that flitted from tree to tree, the exquisiteshapes and colours of the flowers, still dew-bespangled, and above all, the tenderness with which George treated him, soothed my father, and whenhe and George had lit a fire and made some hot corn-coffee--with a viewto which Yram had put up a bottle of milk--he felt so much restored as tolook forward to the rest of his journey without alarm. Moreover he hadnothing to carry, for George had left his own rug at the place where theyhad slept, knowing that he should find it on his return; he had thereforeinsisted on carrying my father's. My father fought as long as he could, but he had to give in. 

"Now tell me, " said George, glad to change the subject, "what will thosethree men do about what you said to them last night? Will they pay anyattention to it?"

My father laughed. "My dear George, what a question--I do not know themwell enough. "

"Oh yes, you do. At any rate say what you think most likely. "

"Very well. I think Dr. Downie will do much as I said. He will notthrow the whole thing over, through fear of schism, loyalty to a partyfrom which he cannot well detach himself, and because he does not thinkthat the public is quite tired enough of its toy. He will neither preachnor write against it, but he will live lukewarmly against it, and this iswhat the Hankys hate. They can stand either hot or cold, but they areafraid of lukewarm. In England Dr. Downie would be a Broad Churchman. "

"Do you think we shall ever get rid of Sunchildism altogether?"

"If they stick to the cock-and-bull stories they are telling now, and rubthem in, as Hanky did on Sunday, it may go, and go soon. It has takenroot too quickly and easily; and its top is too heavy for its roots;still there are so many chances in its favour that it may last a longtime. "

"And how about Hanky?"

"He will brazen it out, relic, chariot, and all: and he will welcome morerelics and more cock-and-bull stories; his single eye will be upon hisown aggrandisement and that of his order. Plausible, unscrupulous, heartless scoundrel that he is, he will play for the queen and the womenof the court, as Dr. Downie will play for the king and the men. He andhis party will sleep neither night nor day, but they will have oneredeeming feature--whoever they may deceive, they will not deceivethemselves. They believe every one else to be as bad as they are, andsee no reason why they should not push their own wares in the way ofbusiness. Hanky is everything that we in England rightly or wronglybelieve a typical Jesuit to be. "

"And Panky--what about him?"

"Panky must persuade himself of his own lies, before he is quitecomfortable about telling them to other people. Hanky keeps Hanky wellout of it; Panky must have a base of operations in Panky. Hanky willlead him by the nose, bit by bit, for his is the master spirit. InEngland Panky would be what we call an extreme ritualist. "

"Then the real battle will be between Hanky and Dr. Downie. Which willcarry the day?"

"For the present, probably Hanky. He is the more vigilant, andenergetic; in this case Sunchildism will have to go, and I am afraid yourwhole Musical Bank system will be swept away along with it. "

"And why not?"

"Because, my dear boy, though false in the letter, if good counselsprevail, it may be made true enough in spirit. If it were to go, itsplace would be soon filled by men who would be as false in letter as theothers were, and much more false in spirit. You want a heart to checkyour head, and a head to check your heart. As in our English bodypolitic there are two parties opposed to one another, neither of whichcan thrive if the other is unduly weakened, so in our spiritual andintellectual world two parties more or less antagonistic are equallynecessary. Those who are at the head of science provide us with the oneparty; those whom we call our churchmen are the other. Both are corrupt, but we can spare neither, for each checks as far as it can thecorruptions of the other. "

"Then you would have us uphold Sunchildism, knowing it to be untrue?"

"Do what you will, you will not get perfect truth. And if you can followthe lead which I believe Dr. Downie will give you, that is to say, getrid of cock-and-bull stories, idealise my unworthy self, and, as I saidlast night, make me a peg on which to hang your own bestthoughts--Sunchildism will be as near truth as anything you are likely toget. But if Hankyism triumphs, come what may you must get rid of it, forhe and his school will tamper with the one sure and everlasting word ofGod revealed to us by human experience. He who plays fast and loose withthis is as one who would forge God's signature to a cheque drawn on God'sown bank. "

"Are we to foster the belief that it was indeed the Sunchild whointerrupted Hanky's sermon?"

"Yes, where you safely can, but not otherwise; and commit the facts towriting as soon as you can find time. Do nothing to jeopardise your ownsafety; you can do more by perfunctory acquiescence than by open dissent. And tell those friends whom you can trust, what these my parting words toyou have been. But above all I charge you solemnly, do nothing tojeopardise your own safety; you cannot play into Hanky's hands morecertainly than by risking this. Think how he and Panky would rejoice, and how Dr. Downie would grieve. Be wise and wary; bide your time; dowhat you prudently can, and you will find you can do much; try to domore, and you will do nothing. Be guided by the Mayor, by yourmother--and by that dear old lady whose grandson you will--"

"Then they have told you, " interrupted the youth blushing scarlet. 

"My dearest boy, of course they have, and I have seen her, and am headover ears in love with her myself. "

He was all smiles and blushes, and vowed for a few minutes that it was ashame of them to tell me, but presently he said--

"Then you like her. "

"Rather!" said my father vehemently, and shaking George by the hand. Buthe said nothing about the nuggets and the sovereigns, knowing that Yramdid not wish him to do so. Neither did George say anything about hisdetermination to start for the capital in the morning, and make a cleanbreast of everything to the King. So soon does it become necessary evenfor those who are most cordially attached to hide things from oneanother. My father, however, was made comfortable by receiving a promisefrom the youth that he would take no step of which the persons he hadnamed would disapprove. 

When once Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter had been introduced there was nomore talking about Hanky and Panky; for George began to bubble over withthe subject that was nearest his heart, and how much he feared that itwould be some time yet before he could be married. Many a story did hetell of his early attachment and of its course for the last ten years, but my space will not allow me to inflict one of them on the reader. Myfather saw that the more he listened and sympathised and encouraged, thefonder George became of him, and this was all he cared about. 

Thus did they converse hour after hour. They passed the Blue Pool, without seeing it or even talking about it for more than a minute. Georgekept an eye on the quails and declared them fairly plentiful and strongon the wing, but nothing now could keep him from pouring out his wholeheart about Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter, until towards noon they caughtsight of the statues, and a halt was made which gave my father the firstpang he had felt that morning, for he knew that the statues would be thebeginning of the end. 

There was no need to light a fire, for Yram had packed for them twobottles of a delicious white wine, something like White Capri, which wentadmirably with the many more solid good things that she had provided forthem. As soon as they had finished a hearty meal my father said toGeorge, "You must have my watch for a keepsake; I see you are not wearingmy boots. I fear you did not find them comfortable, but I am glad youhave not got them on, for I have set my heart on keeping yours. "

"Let us settle about the boots first. I rather fancied that that was whyyou put me off when I wanted to get my own back again; and then I thoughtI should like yours for a keepsake, so I put on another pair last night, and they are nothing like so comfortable as yours were. "

"Now I wonder, " said my father to me, "whether this was true, or whetherit was only that dear fellow's pretty invention; but true or false I wasas delighted as he meant me to be. "

I asked George about this when I saw him, and he confessed with aningenuous blush that my father's boots had hurt him, and that he hadnever thought of making a keepsake of them, till my father's wordsstimulated his invention. 

As for the watch, which was only a silver one, but of the best make, George protested for a time, but when he had yielded, my father could seethat he was overjoyed at getting it; for watches, though now permitted, were expensive and not in common use. 

Having thus bribed him, my father broached the possibility of his meetinghim at the statues on that day twelvemonth, but of course saying nothingabout why he was so anxious that he should come. 

"I will come, " said my father, "not a yard farther than the statues, andif I cannot come I will send your brother. And I will come at noon; butit is possible that the river down below may be in fresh, and I may notbe able to hit off the day, though I will move heaven and earth to do so. Therefore if I do not meet you on the day appointed, do your best to comealso at noon on the following day. I know how inconvenient this will befor you, and will come true to the day if it is possible. "

To my father's surprise, George did not raise so many difficulties as hehad expected. He said it might be done, if neither he nor my father wereto go beyond the statues. "And difficult as it will be for you, " saidGeorge, "you had better come a second day if necessary, as I will, forwho can tell what might happen to make the first day impossible?"

"Then, " said my father, "we shall be spared that horrible feeling that weare parting without hope of seeing each other again. I find it hardenough to say good-bye even now, but I do not know how I could have facedit if you had not agreed to our meeting again. "

"The day fixed upon will be our XXI. I. 3, and the hour noon as near asmay be?"

"So. Let me write it down: 'XXI. I. 3, _i. E_. Our December 9, 1891, I amto meet George at the statues, at twelve o'clock, and if he does notcome, I am to be there again on the following day. '

In like manner, George wrote down what he was to do: "XXI. I. 3, orfailing this XXI. I. 4. Statues. Noon. "

"This, " he said, "is a solemn covenant, is it not?"

"Yes, " said my father, "and may all good omens attend it!"

The words were not out of his mouth before a mountain bird, somethinglike our jackdaw, but smaller and of a bluer black, flew out of thehollow mouth of one of the statues, and with a hearty chuckle perched onthe ground at his feet, attracted doubtless by the scraps of food thatwere lying about. With the fearlessness of birds in that country, itlooked up at him and George, gave another hearty chuckle, and flew backto its statue with the largest fragment it could find. 

They settled that this was an omen so propitious that they could part ingood hope. "Let us finish the wine, " said my father, "and then, do whatmust be done!"

They finished the wine to each other's good health; George drank also tomine, and said he hoped my father would bring me with him, while myfather drank to Yram, the Mayor, their children, Mrs. Humdrum, and aboveall to Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter. They then re-packed all that couldbe taken away; my father rolled his rug to his liking, slung it over hisshoulder, gripped George's hand, and said, "My dearest boy, when we haveeach turned our backs upon one another, let us walk our several ways asfast as we can, and try not to look behind us. "

So saying he loosed his grip of George's hand, bared his head, loweredit, and turned away. 

George burst into tears, and followed him after he had gone two paces; hethrew his arms round him, hugged him, kissed him on his lips, cheeks, andforehead, and then turning round, strode full speed towards Sunch'ston. My father never took his eyes off him till he was out of sight, but theboy did not look round. When he could see him no more, my father withfaltering gait, and feeling as though a prop had suddenly been taken fromunder him, began to follow the stream down towards his old camp. 

CHAPTER XXVI: MY FATHER REACHES HOME, AND DIES NOT LONG AFTERWARDS

My father could walk but slowly, for George's boots had blistered hisfeet, and it seemed to him that the river-bed, of which he caughtglimpses now and again, never got any nearer; but all things come to anend, and by seven o'clock on the night of Tuesday, he was on the spotwhich he had left on the preceding Friday morning. Three entire days hadintervened, but he felt that something, he knew not what, had seized him, and that whereas before these three days life had been one thing, whatlittle might follow them, would be another--and a very different one. 

He soon caught sight of his horse which had strayed a mile lower down theriver-bed, and in spite of his hobbles had crossed one ugly stream thatmy father dared not ford on foot. Tired though he was, he went afterhim, bridle in hand, and when the friendly creature saw him, it recrossedthe stream, and came to him of its own accord--either tired of his owncompany, or tempted by some bread my father held out towards him. Myfather took off the hobbles, and rode him bare-backed to the campingground, where he rewarded him with more bread and biscuit, and thenhobbled him again for the night. 

"It was here, " he said to me on one of the first days after his return, "that I first knew myself to be a broken man. As for meeting Georgeagain, I felt sure that it would be all I could do to meet his brother;and though George was always in my thoughts, it was for you and not himthat I was now yearning. When I gave George my watch, how glad I wasthat I had left my gold one at home, for that is yours, and I could nothave brought myself to give it him. "

"Never mind that, my dear father, " said I, "but tell me how you got downthe river, and thence home again. "

"My very dear boy, " he said, "I can hardly remember, and I had no energyto make any more notes. I remember putting a scrap of paper into the boxof sovereigns, merely sending George my love along with the money; Iremember also dropping the box into a hole in a tree, which I blazed, andtowards which I drew a line of wood-ashes. I seem to see a poor unhingedcreature gazing moodily for hours into a fire which he heaps up now andagain with wood. There is not a breath of air; Nature sleeps so calmlythat she dares not even breathe for fear of waking; the very river hashushed his flow. Without, the starlit calm of a summer's night in agreat wilderness; within, a hurricane of wild and incoherent thoughtsbattling with one another in their fury to fall upon him and rend him--andon the other side the great wall of mountain, thousands of childrenpraying at their mother's knee to this poor dazed thing. I suppose thishalf delirious wretch must have been myself. But I must have been moreill when I left England than I thought I was, or Erewhon would not havebroken me down as it did. "

No doubt he was right. Indeed it was because Mr. Cathie and his doctorsaw that he was out of health and in urgent need of change, that theyleft off opposing his wish to travel. There is no use, however, intalking about this now. 

I never got from him how he managed to reach the shepherd's hut, but Ilearned some little from the shepherd, when I stayed with him both ongoing towards Erewhon, and on returning. 

"He did not seem to have drink in him, " said the shepherd, "when he firstcame here; but he must have been pretty full of it, or he must have hadsome bottles in his saddle-bags; for he was awful when he came back. Hehad got them worse than any man I ever saw, only that he was not awkward. He said there was a bird flying out of a giant's mouth and laughing athim, and he kept muttering about a blue pool, and hanky-panky of allsorts, and he said he knew it was all hanky-panky, at least I thought hesaid so, but it was no use trying to follow him, for it was all nothingbut horrors. He said I was to stop the people from trying to worshiphim. Then he said the sky opened and he could see the angels going aboutand singing 'Hallelujah. '"

"How long did he stay with you?" I asked. 

"About ten days, but the last three he was himself again, only too weakto move. He thought he was cured except for weakness. "

"Do you know how he had been spending the last two days or so before hegot down to your hut?"

I said two days, because this was the time I supposed he would take todescend the river. 

"I should say drinking all the time. He said he had fallen off his horsetwo or three times, till he took to leading him. If he had had any otherhorse than old Doctor he would have been a dead man. Bless you, I haveknown that horse ever since he was foaled, and I never saw one like himfor sense. He would pick fords better than that gentleman could, I know, and if the gentleman fell off him he would just stay stock still. He wasbadly bruised, poor man, when he got here. I saw him through the gorgewhen he left me, and he gave me a sovereign; he said he had only oneother left to take him down to the port, or he would have made it more. "

"He was my father, " said I, "and he is dead, but before he died he toldme to give you five pounds which I have brought you. I think you arewrong in saying that he had been drinking. "

"That is what they all say; but I take it very kind of him to havethought of me. "

My father's illness for the first three weeks after his return playedwith him as a cat plays with a mouse; now and again it would let him havea day or two's run, during which he was so cheerful and unclouded thathis doctor was quite hopeful about him. At various times on theseoccasions I got from him that when he left the shepherd's hut, he thoughthis illness had run itself out, and that he should now reach the portfrom which he was to sail for S. Francisco without misadventure. This hedid, and he was able to do all he had to do at the port, thoughfrequently attacked with passing fits of giddiness. I need not dwellupon his voyage to S. Francisco, and thence home; it is enough to saythat he was able to travel by himself in spite of gradually, butcontinually, increasing failure. 

"When, " he said, "I reached the port, I telegraphed as you know, for moremoney. How puzzled you must have been. I sold my horse to the man fromwhom I bought it, at a loss of only about 10 pounds, and I left with himmy saddle, saddle-bags, small hatchet, my hobbles, and in fact everythingthat I had taken with me, except what they had impounded in Erewhon. Yram's rug I dropped into the river when I knew that I should no longerneed it--as also her substitutes for my billy and pannikin; and I burnedher basket. The shepherd would have asked me questions. You will findan order to deliver everything up to bearer. You need therefore takenothing from England. "

At another time he said, "When you go, for it is plain I cannot, and goone or other of us must, try and get the horse I had: he will be nineyears old, and he knows all about the rivers: if you leave everything tohim, you may shut your eyes, but do not interfere with him. Give theshepherd what I said and he will attend to you, but go a day or two toosoon, for the margin of one day was not enough to allow in case of afresh in the river; if the water is discoloured you must not cross it--noteven with Doctor. I could not ask George to come up three days runningfrom Sunch'ston to the statues and back. "

Here he became exhausted. Almost the last coherent string of sentences Igot from him was as follows:-

"About George's money if I send him 2000 pounds you will still havenearly 150, 000 pounds left, and Mr. Cathie will not let you try to makeit more. I know you would give him four or five thousand, but the Mayorand I talked it over, and settled that 2000 pounds in gold would make hima rich man. Consult our good friend Alfred" (meaning, of course, Mr. Cathie) "about the best way of taking the money. I am afraid there isnothing for it but gold, and this will be a great weight for you tocarry--about, I believe 36 lbs. Can you do this? I really think that ifyou lead your horse you . . . No--there will be the getting him downagain--"

"Don't worry about it, my dear father, " said I, "I can do it easily if Istow the load rightly, and I will see to this. I shall have nothing elseto carry, for I shall camp down below both morning and evening. Butwould you not like to send some present to the Mayor, Yram, their otherchildren, and Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter?"

"Do what you can, " said my father. And these were the last instructionshe gave me about those adventures with which alone this work isconcerned. 

The day before he died, he had a little flicker of intelligence, but allof a sudden his face became clouded as with great anxiety; he seemed tosee some horrible chasm in front of him which he had to cross, or whichhe feared that I must cross, for he gasped out words, which, as near as Icould catch them, were, "Look out! John! Leap! Leap! Le . . . " buthe could not say all that he was trying to say and closed his eyes, having, as I then deemed, seen that he was on the brink of that gulfwhich lies between life and death; I took it that in reality he died atthat moment; for there was neither struggle, nor hardly movement of anykind afterwards--nothing but a pulse which for the next several hoursgrew fainter and fainter so gradually, that it was not till some timeafter it had ceased to beat that we were certain of its having done so. 

CHAPTER XXVII: I MEET MY BROTHER GEORGE AT THE STATUES, ON THE TOP OF THEPASS INTO EREWHON

This book has already become longer than I intended, but I will ask thereader to have patience while I tell him briefly of my own visit to thethreshold of that strange country of which I fear that he may be alreadybeginning to tire. 

The winding-up of my father's estate was a very simple matter, and by thebeginning of September 1891 I should have been free to start; but aboutthat time I became engaged, and naturally enough I did not want to belonger away than was necessary. I should not have gone at all if I couldhave helped it. I left, however, a fortnight later than my father haddone. 

Before starting I bought a handsome gold repeater for the Mayor, and abrooch for Yram, of pearls and diamonds set in gold, for which I paid 200pounds. For Yram's three daughters and for Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughterI took four brooches each of which cost about 15 pounds, 15s. , and forthe boys I got three ten-guinea silver watches. For George I only took astrong English knife of the best make, and the two thousand pounds worthof uncoined gold, which for convenience' sake I had had made into smallbars. I also had a knapsack made that would hold these and nothingelse--each bar being strongly sewn into its place, so that none of themcould shift. Whenever I went on board ship, or went on shore, I put thison my back, so that no one handled it except myself--and I can assure thereader that I did not find it a light weight to handle. I ought to havetaken something for old Mrs. Humdrum, but I am ashamed to say that Iforgot her. 

I went as directly as I could to the port of which my father had told me, and reached it on November 27, one day later than he had done in thepreceding year. 

On the following day, which was a Saturday, I went to the livery stablesfrom which my father had bought his horse, and found to my great delightthat Doctor could be at my disposal, for, as it seemed to me, the veryreasonable price of fifteen shillings a day. I shewed the owner of thestables my father's order, and all the articles he had left wereimmediately delivered to me. I was still wearing crape round one arm, and the horse-dealer, whose name was Baker, said he was afraid the othergentleman might be dead. 

"Indeed, he is so, " said I, "and a great grief it is to me; he was myfather. "

"Dear, dear, " answered Mr. Baker, "that is a very serious thing for thepoor gentleman. He seemed quite unfit to travel alone, and I feared hewas not long for this world, but he was bent on going. "

I had nothing now to do but to buy a blanket, pannikin, and billy, withsome tea, tobacco, two bottles of brandy, some ship's biscuits, andwhatever other few items were down on the list of requisites which myfather had dictated to me. Mr. Baker, seeing that I was what he called anew chum, shewed me how to pack my horse, but I kept my knapsack full ofgold on my back, and though I could see that it puzzled him, he asked noquestions. There was no reason why I should not set out at once for theprincipal town of the colony, which was some ten miles inland; I, therefore, arranged at my hotel that the greater part of my luggageshould await my return, and set out to climb the high hills that back theport. From the top of these I had a magnificent view of the plains thatI should have to cross, and of the long range of distant mountains whichbounded them north and south as far as the eye could reach. On some ofthe mountains I could still see streaks of snow, but my father hadexplained to me that the ranges I should here see, were not thosedividing the English colony from Erewhon. I also saw, some nine miles orso out upon the plains, the more prominent buildings of a large townwhich seemed to be embosomed in trees, and this I reached in about anhour and a half; for I had to descend at a foot's pace, and Doctor's manyvirtues did not comprise a willingness to go beyond an amble. 

At the town above referred to I spent the night, and began to strikeacross the plains on the following morning. I might have crossed thesein three days at twenty-five miles a day, but I had too much time on myhands, and my load of gold was so uncomfortable that I was glad to stayat one accommodation house after another, averaging about eighteen milesa day. I have no doubt that if I had taken advice, I could have stowedmy load more conveniently, but I could not unpack it, and made the bestof it as it was. 

On the evening of Wednesday, December 2, I reached the river which Ishould have to follow up; it was here nearing the gorge through which ithad to pass before the country opened out again at the back of the frontrange. I came upon it quite suddenly on reaching the brink of a greatterrace, the bank of which sloped almost precipitously down towards it, but was covered with grass. The terrace was some three hundred feetabove the river, and faced another similar one, which was from a mile anda half to two miles distant. At the bottom of this huge yawning chasm, rolled the mighty river, and I shuddered at the thought of having tocross and recross it. For it was angry, muddy, evidently in heavy fresh, and filled bank and bank for nearly a mile with a flood of seethingwaters. 

I followed along the northern edge of the terrace, till I reached thelast accommodation house that could be said to be on the plains--which, by the way, were here some eight or nine hundred feet above sea level. When I reached this house, I was glad to learn that the river was notlikely to remain high for more than a day or two, and that if what wascalled a Southerly Burster came up, as it might be expected to do at anymoment, it would be quite low again before three days were over. 

At this house I stayed the night, and in the course of the evening astray dog--a retriever, hardly full grown, and evidently very much downon his luck--took up with me; when I inquired about him, and asked if Imight take him with me, the landlord said he wished I would, for he knewnothing about him and was trying to drive him from the house. Knowingwhat a boon the companionship of this poor beast would be to me when Iwas camping out alone, I encouraged him, and next morning he followed meas a matter of course. 

In the night the Southerly Burster which my host anticipated had come up, cold and blustering, but invigorating after the hot, dry, wind that hadbeen blowing hard during the daytime as I had crossed the plains. A mileor two higher up I passed a large sheep-station, but did not stay there. One or two men looked at me with surprise, and asked me where I wasgoing, whereon I said I was in search of rare plants and birds for theMuseum of the town at which I had slept the night after my arrival. Thissatisfied their curiosity, and I ambled on accompanied by the dog. Inpassing I may say that I found Doctor not to excel at any pace except anamble, but for a long journey, especially for one who is carrying aheavy, awkward load, there is no pace so comfortable; and he ambledfairly fast. 

I followed the horse track which had been cut through the gorge, and inmany places I disliked it extremely, for the river, still in fresh, wasraging furiously; twice, for some few yards, where the gorge was widerand the stream less rapid, it covered the track, and I had no confidencethat it might not have washed it away; on these occasions Doctor prickedhis ears towards the water, and was evidently thinking exactly what hisrider was. He decided, however, that all would be sound, and took to thewater without any urging on my part. Seeing his opinion, I remembered myfather's advice, and let him do what he liked, but in one place for threeor four yards the water came nearly up to his belly, and I was in greatfear for the watches that were in my saddle-bags. As for the dog, Ifeared I had lost him, but after a time he rejoined me, though how hecontrived to do so I cannot say. 

Nothing could be grander than the sight of this great river pent into anarrow compass, and occasionally becoming more like an immense waterfallthan a river, but I was in continual fear of coming to more places wherethe water would be over the track, and perhaps of finding myself unableto get any farther. I therefore failed to enjoy what was really far themost impressive sight in its way that I had ever seen. "Give me, " I saidto myself, "the Thames at Richmond, " and right thankful was I, when atabout two o'clock I found that I was through the gorge and in a widevalley, the greater part of which, however, was still covered by theriver. It was here that I heard for the first time the curious sound ofboulders knocking against each other underneath the great body of waterthat kept rolling them round and round. 

I now halted, and lit a fire, for there was much dead scrub standing thathad remained after the ground had been burned for the first time someyears previously. I made myself some tea, and turned Doctor out for acouple of hours to feed. I did not hobble him, for my father had told methat he would always come for bread. When I had dined, and smoked, andslept for a couple of hours or so, I reloaded Doctor and resumed myjourney towards the shepherd's hut, which I caught sight of about a milebefore I reached it. When nearly half a mile off it, I dismounted, andmade a written note of the exact spot at which I did so. I then turnedfor a couple of hundred yards to my right, at right angles to the track, where some huge rocks were lying--fallen ages since from the mountainthat flanked this side of the valley. Here I deposited my knapsack in ahollow underneath some of the rocks, and put a good sized stone in frontof it, for I meant spending a couple of days with the shepherd to let theriver go down. Moreover, as it was now only December 3, I had too muchtime on my hands, but I had not dared to cut things finer. 

I reached the hut at about six o'clock, and introduced myself to theshepherd, who was a nice, kind old man, commonly called Harris, but hisreal name he told me was Horace--Horace Taylor. I had the conversationwith him of which I have already told the reader, adding that my fatherhad been unable to give a coherent account of what he had seen, and thatI had been sent to get the information he had failed to furnish. 

The old man said that I must certainly wait a couple of days before Iwent higher up the river. He had made himself a nice garden, in which hetook the greatest pride, and which supplied him with plenty ofvegetables. He was very glad to have company, and to receive thenewspapers which I had taken care to bring him. He had a real genius forsimple cookery, and fed me excellently. My father's 5 pounds, and theration of brandy which I nightly gave him, made me a welcome guest, andthough I was longing to be at any rate as far as the foot of the passinto Erewhon, I amused myself very well in an abundance of ways withwhich I need not trouble the reader. 

One of the first things that Harris said to me was, "I wish I knew whatyour father did with the nice red blanket he had with him when he went upthe river. He had none when he came down again; I have no horse here, but I borrowed one from a man who came up one day from down below, androde to a place where I found what I am sure were the ashes of the lastfire he made, but I could find neither the blanket nor the billy andpannikin he took away with him. He said he supposed he must have leftthe things there, but he could remember nothing about it. "

"I am afraid, " said I, "that I cannot help you. "

"At any rate, " continued the shepherd, "I did not have my ride fornothing, for as I was coming back I found this rug half covered with sandon the river-bed. "

As he spoke he pointed to an excellent warm rug, on the spare bunk in hishut. "It is none of our make, " said he; "I suppose some foreign diggerhas come over from the next river down south and got drowned, for it hadnot been very long where I found it, at least I think not, for it was notmuch fly-blown, and no one had passed here to go up the river since yourfather. "

I knew what it was, but I held my tongue beyond saying that the rug was avery good one. 

The next day, December 4, was lovely, after a night that had been clearand cold, with frost towards early morning. When the shepherd had gonefor some three hours in the forenoon to see his sheep (that were nowlambing), I walked down to the place where I had left my knapsack, andcarried it a good mile above the hut, where I again hid it. I could seethe great range from one place, and the thick new fallen snow assured methat the river would be quite normal shortly. Indeed, by evening it washardly at all discoloured, but I waited another day, and set out on themorning of Sunday, December 6. The river was now almost as low as inwinter, and Harris assured me that if I used my eyes I could not missfinding a ford over one stream or another every half mile or so. I hadthe greatest difficulty in preventing him from accompanying me on footfor some little distance, but I got rid of him in the end; he came withme beyond the place where I had hidden my knapsack, but when he had leftme long enough, I rode back and got it. 

I see I am dwelling too long upon my own small adventures. Suffice itthat, accompanied by my dog, I followed the north bank of the river tillI found I must cross one stream before I could get any farther. Thisplace would not do, and I had to ride half a mile back before I found onethat seemed as if it might be safe. I fancy my father must have donejust the same thing, for Doctor seemed to know the ground, and took tothe water the moment I brought him to it. It never reached his belly, but I confess I did not like it. By and by I had to recross, and so on, off and on, till at noon I camped for dinner. Here the dog found me anest of young ducks, nearly fledged, from which the parent birds triedwith great success to decoy me. I fully thought I was going to catchthem, but the dog knew better and made straight for the nest, from whichhe returned immediately with a fine young duck in his mouth, which helaid at my feet, wagging his tail and barking. I took another from thenest and left two for the old birds. 

The afternoon was much as the morning and towards seven I reached a placewhich suggested itself as a good camping ground. I had hardly fixed onit and halted, before I saw a few pieces of charred wood, and felt surethat my father must have camped at this very place before me. I hobbledDoctor, unloaded, plucked and singed a duck, and gave the dog some of themeat with which Harris had furnished me; I made tea, laid my duck on theembers till it was cooked, smoked, gave myself a nightcap of brandy andwater, and by and by rolled myself round in my blanket, with the dogcurled up beside me. I will not dwell upon the strangeness of myfeelings--nor the extreme beauty of the night. But for the dog, andDoctor, I should have been frightened, but I knew that there were nosavage creatures or venomous snakes in the country, and both the dog andDoctor were such good companionable creatures, that I did not feel somuch oppressed by the solitude as I had feared I should be. But thenight was cold, and my blanket was not enough to keep me comfortablywarm. 

The following day was delightfully warm as soon as the sun got to thebottom of the valley, and the fresh fallen snow disappeared so fast fromthe snowy range that I was afraid it would raise the river--which, indeed, rose in the afternoon and became slightly discoloured, but itcannot have been more than three or four inches deeper, for it neverreached the bottom of my saddle-bags. I believe Doctor knew exactlywhere I was going, for he wanted no guidance. I halted again at midday, got two more ducks, crossed and recrossed the river, or some of itsstreams, several times, and at about six, caught sight, after a bend inthe valley, of the glacier descending on to the river-bed. This I knewto be close to the point at which I was to camp for the night, and fromwhich I was to ascend the mountain. After another hour's slow progressover the increasing roughness of the river-bed, I saw the triangulardelta of which my father had told me, and the stream that had formed it, bounding down the mountain side. Doctor went right up to the place wheremy father's fire had been, and I again found many pieces of charred woodand ashes. 

As soon as I had unloaded Doctor and hobbled him, I went to a tree hardby, on which I could see the mark of a blaze, and towards which I thoughtI could see a line of wood ashes running. There I found a hole in whichsome bird had evidently been wont to build, and surmised correctly thatit must be the one in which my father had hidden his box of sovereigns. There was no box in the hole now, and I began to feel that I was at lastwithin measureable distance of Erewhon and the Erewhonians. 

I camped for the night here, and again found my single blanketinsufficient. The next day, i. E. Tuesday, December 8, I had to pass as Ibest could, and it occurred to me that as I should find the gold a greatweight, I had better take it some three hours up the mountain side andleave it there, so as to make the following day less fatiguing, and thisI did, returning to my camp for dinner; but I was panic-stricken all therest of the day lest I should not have hidden it safely, or lest I shouldbe unable to find it next day--conjuring up a hundred absurd fancies asto what might befall it. And after all, heavy though it was, I couldhave carried it all the way. In the afternoon I saddled Doctor and rodehim up to the glaciers, which were indeed magnificent, and then I madethe few notes of my journey from which this chapter has been taken. Imade excuses for turning in early, and at daybreak rekindled my fire andgot my breakfast. All the time the companionship of the dog was anunspeakable comfort to me. 

It was now the day my father had fixed for my meeting with George, and myexcitement (with which I have not yet troubled the reader, though it hadbeen consuming me ever since I had left Harris's hut) was beyond allbounds, so much so that I almost feared I was in a fever which wouldprevent my completing the little that remained of my task; in fact, I wasin as great a panic as I had been about the gold that I had left. Myhands trembled as I took the watches, and the brooches for Yram and herdaughters from my saddle-bags, which I then hung, probably on the verybough on which my father had hung them. Needless to say, I also hung mysaddle and bridle along with the saddle-bags. 

It was nearly seven before I started, and about ten before I reached thehiding-place of my knapsack. I found it, of course, quite easily, shouldered it, and toiled on towards the statues. At a quarter beforetwelve I reached them, and almost beside myself as I was, could notrefrain from some disappointment at finding them a good deal smaller thanI expected. My father, correcting the measurement he had given in hisbook, said he thought that they were about four or five times the size oflife; but really I do not think they were more than twenty feet high, anyone of them. In other respects my father's description of them is quiteaccurate. There was no wind, and as a matter of course, therefore, theywere not chanting. I wiled away the quarter of an hour before the timewhen George became due, with wondering at them, and in a way admiringthem, hideous though they were; but all the time I kept looking towardsthe part from which George should come. 

At last my watch pointed to noon, but there was no George. A quarterpast twelve, but no George. Half-past, still no George. One o'clock, and all the quarters till three o'clock, but still no George. I tried toeat some of the ship's biscuits I had brought with me, but I could not. My disappointment was now as great as my excitement had been all theforenoon; at three o'clock I fairly cried, and for half an hour couldonly fling myself on the ground and give way to all the unreasonablespleen that extreme vexation could suggest. True, I kept telling myselfthat for aught I knew George might be dead, or down with a fever; butthis would not do; for in this last case he should have sent one of hisbrothers to meet me, and it was not likely that he was dead. I am afraidI thought it most probable that he had been casual--of which unworthysuspicion I have long since been heartily ashamed. 

I put the brooches inside my knapsack, and hid it in a place where I wassure no one would find it; then, with a heavy heart, I trudged down againto my camp--broken in spirit, and hopeless for the morrow. 

I camped again, but it was some hours before I got a wink of sleep; andwhen sleep came it was accompanied by a strange dream. I dreamed that Iwas by my father's bedside, watching his last flicker of intelligence, and vainly trying to catch the words that he was not less vainly tryingto utter. All of a sudden the bed seemed to be at my camping ground, andthe largest of the statues appeared, quite small, high up the mountainside, but striding down like a giant in seven league boots till it stoodover me and my father, and shouted out "Leap, John, leap. " In the horrorof this vision I woke with a loud cry that woke my dog also, and made himshew such evident signs of fear, that it seemed to me as though he toomust have shared my dream. 

Shivering with cold I started up in a frenzy, but there was nothing, savea night of such singular beauty that I did not even try to go to sleepagain. Naturally enough, on trying to keep awake I dropped asleep beforemany minutes were over. 

In the morning I again climbed up to the statues, without, to mysurprise, being depressed with the idea that George would again fail tomeet me. On the contrary, without rhyme or reason, I had a strongpresentiment that he would come. And sure enough, as soon as I caughtsight of the statues, which I did about a quarter to twelve, I saw ayouth coming towards me, with a quick step, and a beaming face that hadonly to be seen to be fallen in love with. 

"You are my brother, " said he to me. "Is my father with you?"

I pointed to the crape on my arm, and to the ground, but said nothing. 

He understood me, and bared his head. Then he flung his arms about meand kissed my forehead according to Erewhonian custom. I was a littlesurprised at his saying nothing to me about the way in which he haddisappointed me on the preceding day; I resolved, however, to wait forthe explanation that I felt sure he would give me presently. 

CHAPTER XXVIII: GEORGE AND I SPEND A FEW HOURS TOGETHER AT THE STATUES, AND THEN PART--I REACH HOME--POSTSCRIPT

I have said on an earlier page that George gained an immediate ascendancyover me, but ascendancy is not the word--he took me by storm; how, orwhy, I neither know nor want to know, but before I had been with him morethan a few minutes I felt as though I had known and loved him all mylife. And the dog fawned upon him as though he felt just as I did. 

"Come to the statues, " said he, as soon as he had somewhat recovered fromthe shock of the news I had given him. "We can sit down there on thevery stone on which our father and I sat a year ago. I have brought abasket, which my mother packed for--for--him and me. Did he talk to youabout me?"

"He talked of nothing so much, and he thought of nothing so much. He hadyour boots put where he could see them from his bed until he died. "

Then followed the explanation about these boots, of which the reader hasalready been told. This made us both laugh, and from that moment we werecheerful. 

I say nothing about our enjoyment of the luncheon with which Yram hadprovided us, and if I were to detail all that I told George about myfather, and all the additional information that I got from him--(many apoint did he clear up for me that I had not fully understood)--I shouldfill several chapters, whereas I have left myself only one. Luncheonbeing over I said--

"And are you married?"

"Yes" (with a blush), "and are you?"

I could not blush. Why should I? And yet young people--especially themost ingenuous among them--are apt to flush up on being asked if theyare, or are going, to be married. If I could have blushed, I would. Asit was I could only say that I was engaged and should marry as soon as Igot back. 

"Then you have come all this way for me, when you were wanting to getmarried?"

"Of course I have. My father on his death-bed told me to do so, and tobring you something that I have brought you. "

"What trouble I have given! How can I thank you?"

"Shake hands with me. "

Whereon he gave my hand a stronger grip than I had quite bargained for. 

"And now, " said I, "before I tell you what I have brought, you mustpromise me to accept it. Your father said I was not to leave you tillyou had done so, and I was to say that he sent it with his dyingblessing. "

After due demur George gave his promise, and I took him to the placewhere I had hidden my knapsack. 

"I brought it up yesterday, " said I. 

"Yesterday? but why?"

"Because yesterday--was it not?--was the first of the two days agreedupon between you and our father?"

"No--surely to-day is the first day--I was to come XXI. I. 3, which wouldbe your December 9. "

"But yesterday was December 9 with us--to-day is December 10. "

"Strange! What day of the week do you make it?"

"To-day is Thursday, December 10. "

"This is still stranger--we make it Wednesday; yesterday was Tuesday. "

Then I saw it. The year XX. Had been a leap year with the Erewhonians, and 1891 in England had not. This, then, was what had crossed myfather's brain in his dying hours, and what he had vainly tried to tellme. It was also what my unconscious self had been struggling to tell myconscious one, during the past night, but which my conscious self hadbeen too stupid to understand. And yet my conscious self had caught itin an imperfect sort of a way after all, for from the moment that mydream had left me I had been composed, and easy in my mind that all wouldbe well. I wish some one would write a book about dreams andparthenogenesis--for that the two are part and parcel of the same story--abrood of folly without father bred--I cannot doubt. 

I did not trouble George with any of this rubbish, but only shewed himhow the mistake had arisen. When we had laughed sufficiently over mymistake--for it was I who had come up on the wrong day, not he--I fishedmy knapsack out of its hiding-place. 

"Do not unpack it, " said I, "beyond taking out the brooches, or you willnot be able to pack it so well; but you can see the ends of the bars ofgold, and you can feel the weight; my father sent them for you. Thepearl brooch is for your mother, the smaller brooches are for yoursisters, and your wife. "

I then told him how much gold there was, and from my pockets brought outthe watches and the English knife. 

"This last, " I said, "is the only thing that I am giving you; the rest isall from our father. I have many many times as much gold myself, andthis is legally your property as much as mine is mine. "

George was aghast, but he was powerless alike to express his feelings, orto refuse the gold. 

"Do you mean to say that my father left me this by his will?"

"Certainly he did, " said I, inventing a pious fraud. 

"It is all against my oath, " said he, looking grave. 

"Your oath be hanged, " said I. "You must give the gold to the Mayor, whoknows that it was coming, and it will appear to the world, as though hewere giving it you now instead of leaving you anything. "

"But it is ever so much too much!"

"It is not half enough. You and the Mayor must settle all that betweenyou. He and our father talked it all over, and this was what theysettled. "

"And our father planned all this, without saying a word to me about itwhile we were on our way up here?"

"Yes. There might have been some hitch in the gold's coming. Besidesthe Mayor told him not to tell you. "

"And he never said anything about the other money he left for me--whichenabled me to marry at once? Why was this?"

"Your mother said he was not to do so. "

"Bless my heart, how they have duped me all round. But why would not mymother let your father tell me? Oh yes--she was afraid I should tell theKing about it, as I certainly should, when I told him all the rest. "

"Tell the King?" said I, "what have you been telling the King?"

"Everything; except about the nuggets and the sovereigns, of which I knewnothing; and I have felt myself a blackguard ever since for not tellinghim about these when he came up here last autumn--but I let the Mayor andmy mother talk me over, as I am afraid they will do again. "

"When did you tell the King?"

Then followed all the details that I have told in the latter part ofChapter XXI. When I asked how the King took the confession, George said--

"He was so much flattered at being treated like a reasonable being, andDr. Downie, who was chief spokesman, played his part so discreetly, without attempting to obscure even the most compromising issues, thatthough his Majesty made some show of displeasure at first, it was plainthat he was heartily enjoying the whole story. 

"Dr. Downie shewed very well. He took on himself the onus of havingadvised our action, and he gave me all the credit of having proposed thatwe should make a clean breast of everything. 

"The King, too, behaved with truly royal politeness; he was on the pointof asking why I had not taken our father to the Blue Pool at once, andflung him into it on the Sunday afternoon, when something seemed tostrike him: he gave me a searching look, on which he said in anundertone, 'Oh yes, ' and did not go on with his question. He neverblamed me for anything, and when I begged him to accept my resignation ofthe Rangership, he said--

"'No. Stay where you are till I lose confidence in you, which will not, I think, be very soon. I will come and have a few days' shooting aboutthe middle of March, and if I have good sport I shall order your salaryto be increased. If any more foreign devils come over, do not Blue-Poolthem; send them down to me, and I will see what I think of them; I ammuch disposed to encourage a few of them to settle here. "

"I am sure, " continued George, "that he said this because he knew I washalf a foreign devil myself. Indeed he won my heart not only by thedelicacy of his consideration, but by the obvious good will he bore me. Ido not know what he did with the nuggets, but he gave orders that theblanket and the rest of my father's kit should be put in the greatErewhonian Museum. As regards my father's receipt, and the Professors'two depositions, he said he would have them carefully preserved in hissecret archives. 'A document, ' he said somewhat enigmatically, 'is adocument--but, Professor Hanky, you can have this'--and as he spoke hehanded him back his pocket-handkerchief. 

"Hanky during the whole interview was furious, at having to play soundignified a part, but even more so, because the King while he paidmarked attention to Dr. Downie, and even to myself, treated him withamused disdain. Nevertheless, angry though he was, he was impenitent, unabashed, and brazened it out at Bridgeford, that the King had receivedhim with open arms, and had snubbed Dr. Downie and myself. But for his(Hanky's) intercession, I should have been dismissed then and there fromthe Rangership. And so forth. Panky never opened his mouth. 

"Returning to the King, his Majesty said to Dr. Downie, 'I am afraid Ishall not be able to canonize any of you gentlemen just yet. We must letthis affair blow over. Indeed I am in half a mind to have this Sunchildbubble pricked; I never liked it, and am getting tired of it; you MusicalBank gentlemen are overdoing it. I will talk it over with her Majesty. As for Professor Hanky, I do not see how I can keep one who has been sosuccessfully hoodwinked, as my Professor of Worldly Wisdom; but I willconsult her Majesty about this point also. Perhaps I can find anotherpost for him. If I decide on having Sunchildism pricked, he shall applythe pin. You may go. '

"And glad enough, " said George, "we all of us were to do so. "

"But did he, " I asked, "try to prick the bubble of Sunchildism?"

"Oh no. As soon as he said he would talk it over with her Majesty, Iknew the whole thing would end in smoke, as indeed to all outwardappearance it shortly did; for Dr. Downie advised him not to be in toogreat a hurry, and whatever he did to do it gradually. He therefore tookno further action than to show marked favour to practical engineers andmechanicians. Moreover he started an aeronautical society, which madeBridgeford furious; but so far, I am afraid it has done us no good, forthe first ascent was disastrous, involving the death of the poor fellowwho made it, and since then no one has ventured to ascend. I am afraidwe do not get on very fast. "

"Did the King, " I asked, "increase your salary?"

"Yes. He doubled it. "

"And what do they say in Sunch'ston about our father's second visit?"

George laughed, and shewed me the newspaper extract which I have alreadygiven. I asked who wrote it. 

"I did, " said he, with a demure smile; "I wrote it at night after Ireturned home, and before starting for the capital next morning. Icalled myself 'the deservedly popular Ranger, ' to avert suspicion. Noone found me out; you can keep the extract, I brought it here onpurpose. "

"It does you great credit. Was there ever any lunatic, and was hefound?"

"Oh yes. That part was true, except that he had never been up our way. "

"Then the poacher is still at large?"

"It is to be feared so. "

"And were Dr. Downie and the Professors canonized after all. "

"Not yet; but the Professors will be next month--for Hanky is stillProfessor. Dr. Downie backed out of it. He said it was enough to be aSunchildist without being a Sunchild Saint. He worships the jumping catas much as the others, but he keeps his eye better on the cat, and seessooner both when it will jump, and where it will jump to. Then, withoutdisturbing any one, he insinuates himself into the place which will bebest when the jump is over. Some say that the cat knows him and followshim; at all events when he makes a move the cat generally jumps towardshim soon afterwards. "

"You give him a very high character. "

"Yes, but I have my doubts about his doing much in this matter; he isgetting old, and Hanky burrows like a mole night and day. There is noknowing how it will all end. "

"And the people at Sunch'ston? Has it got well about among them, inspite of your admirable article, that it was the Sunchild himself whointerrupted Hanky?"

"It has, and it has not. Many of us know the truth, but a story camedown from Bridgeford that it was an evil spirit who had assumed theSunchild's form, intending to make people sceptical about Sunchildism;Hanky and Panky cowed this spirit, otherwise it would never haverecanted. Many people swallow this. "

"But Hanky and Panky swore that they knew the man. "

"That does not matter. "

"And now please, how long have you been married?"

"About ten months. "

"Any family?"

"One boy about a fortnight old. Do come down to Sunch'ston and seehim--he is your own nephew. You speak Erewhonian so perfectly that nohuman being would suspect you were a foreigner, and you look one of usfrom head to foot. I can smuggle you through quite easily, and my motherwould so like to see you. "

I should dearly have liked to have gone, but it was out of the question. I had nothing with me but the clothes I stood in; moreover I was longingto be back in England, and when once I was in Erewhon there was noknowing when I should be able to get away again; but George fought hardbefore he gave in. 

It was now nearing the time when this strange meeting between twobrothers--as strange a one as the statues can ever have looked downupon--must come to an end. I shewed George what the repeater would do, and what it would expect of its possessor. I gave him six goodphotographs, of my father and myself--three of each. He had never seen aphotograph, and could hardly believe his eyes as he looked at those Ishewed him. I also gave him three envelopes addressed to myself, care ofAlfred Emery Cathie, Esq. , 15 Clifford's Inn, London, and implored him towrite to me if he could ever find means of getting a letter over therange as far as the shepherd's hut. At this he shook his head, but hepromised to write if he could. I also told him that I had written a fullaccount of my father's second visit to Erewhon, but that it should neverbe published till I heard from him--at which he again shook his head, butadded, "And yet who can tell? For the King may have the country openedup to foreigners some day after all. "

Then he thanked me a thousand times over, shouldered the knapsack, embraced me as he had my father, and caressed the dog, embraced me again, and made no attempt to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks. 

"There, " he said; "I shall wait here till you are out of sight. "

I turned away, and did not look back till I reached the place at which Iknew that I should lose the statues. I then turned round, waved myhand--as also did George, and went down the mountain side, full of sadthoughts, but thankful that my task had been so happily accomplished, andaware that my life henceforward had been enriched by something that Icould never lose. 

For I had never seen, and felt as though I never could see, George'sequal. His absolute unconsciousness of self, the unhesitating way inwhich he took me to his heart, his fearless frankness, the happy genialexpression that played on his face, and the extreme sweetness of hissmile--these were the things that made me say to myself that the "blazonof beauty's best" could tell me nothing better than what I had found andlost within the last three hours. How small, too, I felt by comparison!If for no other cause, yet for this, that I, who had wept so bitterlyover my own disappointment the day before, could meet this dear fellow'stears with no tear of my own. 

But let this pass. I got back to Harris's hut without adventure. Whenthere, in the course of the evening, I told Harris that I had a fancy forthe rug he had found on the river-bed, and that if he would let me haveit, I would give him my red one and ten shillings to boot. The exchangewas so obviously to his advantage that he made no demur, and next morningI strapped Yram's rug on to my horse, and took it gladly home to England, where I keep it on my own bed next to the counterpane, so that with careit may last me out my life. I wanted him to take the dog and make a homefor him, but he had two collies already, and said that a retriever wouldbe of no use to him. So I took the poor beast on with me to the port, where I was glad to find that Mr. Baker liked him and accepted him fromme, though he was not mine to give. He had been such an unspeakablecomfort to me when I was alone, that he would have haunted me unless Ihad been able to provide for him where I knew he would be well cared for. As for Doctor, I was sorry to leave him, but I knew he was in good hands. 

"I see you have not brought your knapsack back, sir, " said Mr. Baker. 

"No, " said I, "and very thankful was I when I had handed it over to thosefor whom it was intended. "

"I have no doubt you were, sir, for I could see it was a desperate heavyload for you. "

"Indeed it was. " But at this point I brought the discussion to a close. 

Two days later I sailed, and reached home early in February 1892. I wasmarried three weeks later, and when the honeymoon was over, set aboutmaking the necessary, and some, I fear, unnecessary additions to thisbook--by far the greater part of which had been written, as I havealready said, many months earlier. I now leave it, at any rate for thepresent, April 22, 1892. 

* * * * *

Postscript. --On the last day of November 1900, I received a letteraddressed in Mr. Alfred Cathie's familiar handwriting, and on opening itfound that it contained another, addressed to me in my own, andunstamped. For the moment I was puzzled, but immediately knew that itmust be from George. I tore it open, and found eight closely writtenpages, which I devoured as I have seldom indeed devoured so long aletter. It was dated XXIX. Vii. 1, and, as nearly as I can translate itwas as follows;-

"Twice, my dearest brother, have I written to you, and twice insuccessive days in successive years, have I been up to the statues on thechance that you could meet me, as I proposed in my letters. Do not thinkI went all the way back to Sunch'ston--there is a ranger's shelter nowonly an hour and a half below the statues, and here I passed the night. Iknew you had got neither of my letters, for if you had got them and couldnot come yourself, you would have sent some one whom you could trust witha letter. I know you would, though I do not know how you would havecontrived to do it. 

"I sent both letters through Bishop Kahabuka (or, as his inferior clergycall him, 'Chowbok'), head of the Christian Mission to Erewhemos, which, as your father has doubtless told you, is the country adjoining Erewhon, but inhabited by a coloured race having no affinity with our own. BishopKahabuka has penetrated at times into Erewhon, and the King, wishing tobe on good terms with his neighbours, has permitted him to establish twoor three mission stations in the western parts of Erewhon. Among themissionaries are some few of your own countrymen. None of us like them, but one of them is teaching me English, which I find quite easy. 

"As I wrote in the letters that have never reached you, I am no longerRanger. The King, after some few years (in the course of which I toldhim of your visit, and what you had brought me), declared that I was theonly one of his servants whom he could trust, and found high office forme, which kept me in close confidential communication with himself. 

"About three years ago, on the death of his Prime Minister, he appointedme to fill his place; and it was on this, that so many possibilitiesoccurred to me concerning which I dearly longed for your opinion, that Iwrote and asked you, if you could, to meet me personally or by proxy atthe statues, which I could reach on the occasion of my annual visit to mymother--yes--and father--at Sunch'ston. 

"I sent both letters by way of Erewhemos, confiding them to BishopKahabuka, who is just such another as St. Hanky. He tells me that ourfather was a very old and dear friend of his--but of course I did not sayanything about his being my own father. I only inquired about a Mr. Higgs, who was now worshipped in Erewhon as a supernatural being. TheBishop said it was, "Oh, so very dreadful, " and he felt it all the morekeenly, for the reason that he had himself been the means of my father'sgoing to Erewhon, by giving him the information that enabled him to findthe pass over the range that bounded the country. 

"I did not like the man, but I thought I could trust him with a letter, which it now seems I could not do. This third letter I have given himwith a promise of a hundred pounds in silver for his new Cathedral, to bepaid as soon as I get an answer from you. 

"We are all well at Sunch'ston; so are my wife and eight children--fivesons and three daughters--but the country is at sixes and sevens. St. Panky is dead, but his son Pocus is worse. Dr. Downie has become verylethargic. I can do less against St. Hankyism than when I was a privateman. A little indiscretion on my part would plunge the country in civilwar. Our engineers and so-called men of science are sturdily begging forendowments, and steadily claiming to have a hand in every pie that isbaked from one end of the country to the other. The missionaries arebuying up all our silver, and a change in the relative values of gold andsilver is in progress of which none of us foresee the end. 

"The King and I both think that annexation by England, or a BritishProtectorate, would be the saving of us, for we have no army worth thename, and if you do not take us over some one else soon will. The Kinghas urged me to send for you. If you come (do! do! do!) you had bettercome by way of Erewhemos, which is now in monthly communication withSouthampton. If you will write me that you are coming I will meet you atthe port, and bring you with me to our own capital, where the King willbe overjoyed to see you. "

* * * * *

The rest of the letter was filled with all sorts of news which interestedme, but would require chapters of explanation before they could becomeinteresting to the reader. 

The letter wound up:-

 "You may publish now whatever you like, whenever you like. 

 "Write to me by way of Erewhemos, care of the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop, and say which way you will come. If you prefer the old road, we are bound to be in the neighbourhood of the statues by the beginning of March. My next brother is now Ranger, and could meet you at the statues with permit and luncheon, and more of that white wine than ever you will be able to drink. Only let me know what you will do. 

 "I should tell you that the old railway which used to run from Clearwater to the capital, and which, as you know, was allowed to go to ruin, has been reconstructed at an outlay far less than might have been expected--for the bridges had been maintained for ordinary carriage traffic. The journey, therefore, from Sunch'ston to the capital can now be done in less than forty hours. On the whole, however, I recommend you to come by way of Erewhemos. If you start, as I think possible, without writing from England, Bishop Kahabuka's palace is only eight miles from the port, and he will give you every information about your further journey--a distance of less than a couple of hundred miles. But I should prefer to meet you myself. 

 "My dearest brother, I charge you by the memory of our common father, and even more by that of those three hours that linked you to me for ever, and which I would fain hope linked me also to yourself--come over, if by any means you can do so--come over and help us. 

 "GEORGE STRONG. "

"My dear, " said I to my wife who was at the other end of the breakfasttable, "I shall have to translate this letter to you, and then you willhave to help me to begin packing; for I have none too much time. I mustsee Alfred, and give him a power of attorney. He will arrange with somepublisher about my book, and you can correct the press. Break the newsgently to the children; and get along without me, my dear, for six monthsas well as you can. "

* * * * *

I write this at Southampton, from which port I sail to-morrow--i. E. November 15, 1900--for Erewhemos. 

Footnotes

{1} See Chapter X.